


Remember to turn on the light

by KeelieThompson1



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Drama, Family, Humor, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mpreg, Post Hogwarts AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-03-20 11:51:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 31,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13717107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeelieThompson1/pseuds/KeelieThompson1
Summary: Over the years, the Potters and Malfoys have helped start wars and end them. But perhaps, the most impressive thing would be to prevent a third war all together.In which, Harry is often baffled by the idea of love and realises that perhaps alienating people can cause more problems that it solves, while Draco is generally baffled by Harry and learns to pick his battles and both have to navigate the repercussions of an accidental, unplanned pregnancy.





	1. Harry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry deals with pregnancy, magic, whatever the hell he has going on with Draco, and the fact that his son might just be far too much like Harry himself.

“Pregnant?” Harry gasped, eyes dancing between the blob being illuminated by the spell hovering about his stomach and the rather disappointed face of Healer Jackson. “How?”

“Mr Potter, if I have to explain that-”

Groaning, Harry flopped backwards and stared at the ceiling in sheer disbelief. Fucking Malfoy and his stupid…general stupidness. And alcohol. And ridiculous charity balls to ensure that they all made a show of forgive and forget.

But Malfoy was definitely more to blame. 

Unless…

“Can wizards just spontaneously you know…create-”

“No,” Healer Jackson said staring back down at her chart. “I take it that your partner at the time is not someone that you would choose as the other father of your child?”

Other father?

Jesus, that was probably taking the whole ‘we’re all friends’ bullshit a bit too far.

“You might say that,” Harry said, fighting the urge to roll into the pillow beneath him as if he was a sulking child. “Pregnant as in a baby?”

“Mm,” Healer Jackson said, jotting something down. “As in eight months from now, should you choose-”

Harry blinked up at her. “Should I choose?”

“To continue the pregnancy.” Here she looked at him properly, a gentle expression on her face. “Should you wish to terminate, you will need to do it quickly before your magic accepts the foetus and starts to actively protect it-”

“I’ll keep it,” he said, pulling up his knees as if to hide his stomach.

“Then you will need to take a leave of absence from work.” She caught his gaze and gave him a pointed look. “Working as an auror is inadvisable. You might be able to take a desk job-”

Nope.

“-otherwise it will have to be an extended leave-”

Harry groaned again and buried his face in his knees.

“-and of course, assuming that the other father will not be a part of the pregnancy, you should consider the merits of continuing your current profession, though that choice should be up to you-”

“Other father,” Harry muttered. “Oh god, do I have to tell him?”

Healer Jackson snorted. “No, but I think you’re the only one who should tell him.”

“Eight months?” Harry checked. “How long does it take for a baby to talk? Could the baby tell him?”

She gave his stomach a long look and then glanced up at him. “I think you should probably have time to assimilate this information. We can book you an appointment next week when the shock wears off.”

Xxx

He wasn’t entirely sure where he was going except that he ended up in front of Hermione and Ron’s door at about dinner time and knocked on their door over and over until Hermione yanked it open, furious.

“What?” she snapped. “Harry, do you know what day it is?”

“Yep,” he said, barging in. “It’s Harry finds out Malfoy knocked him up day.”

Whatever she’d been about to say failed her and she stopped almost dead, eyes widening as he stomped into their living area and crashed onto their sofa with a long groan.

“Harry, it’s fucking Valentine’s Day,” Ron complained from the table where candles flickered, disguising what was probably the grim remains of his cooking.

He looked up over the arm of the sofa. “Pregnant.”

“Hermione told you?” Ron asked, sounding disappointed. “I just-”

What?

Turning, he glared at her and then blinked at her grabbing one of Ron’s thick jumpers and pulling it over what looked like a rather flattering dress and his mind almost started to catch up again. “Ooh, you two were,” he gestured between them feeling like a lunatic.

“Harry,” Hermione said, folding her arms over the jumper, “is apparently pregnant too.”

“Who did you get…” Ron trailed off and then stared at him before banging his head against the table and started to mutter under his breath.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said, gathering himself up, “I just…” he turned and hung his head between his knees feeling oddly as if he might simultaneously burst into tears and puke. “Oh god, Malfoy of all people. This is like…I’m literally the caution story.” He lifted his head. “Never drink. Never, ever, ever-”

“Harry,” Hermione said, closer and he could feel her hands wrap around his wrists. “Do you want some food and we can talk about it?”

Miserable, he nodded. “I can wait until tomorrow,” he muttered.

“Mate, you’ve killed the mood,” Ron said and the sofa dipped as a comforting hand rested on his back. “I mean…you mentioned Malfoy and sex. I’m out for at least twenty-four hours.”

Xxx

Two days later, Harry tossed a ball at the ceiling of Grimmauld place, ignoring the forlorn way Kreacher stared at him.

Reasons to tell: it was probably morally right, extra baby sitter, the baby would know its other parent. Malfoy might start to be nicer. Malfoy might be able to take over the charity functions because he’d be like the poster boy for being friends with former enemies. Baby could take over charity functions…

Reasons to not tell: Malfoy was Malfoy, Malfoy being involved in the baby’s life might turn it into a brat, Malfoy might try suing for custody, Malfoy might not give a shit. 

Oh and Malfoy was married and had a baby on the way and his wife was as fragile as a fairy wing right now because she’d had two miscarriages since getting married two years ago.

“Am I being childish?” he asked, turning his head to Neville who was sat looking through the recommended shopping list for expectant fathers, “I mean…we’re not in a relationship, we’re barely civil to each other, and his wife is…oh God, why did I sleep with him?” Harry hissed, catching the ball and leaning his head back.

“Because you and champagne should never mix,” Neville said with a sigh, putting down the list. “And honestly, Harry…that list of yours is looking…maybe you shouldn’t.”

“And yet I can’t help but think I should,” Harry said, rubbing at his neck. “Despite everything. I’d want to know,” he added, twisting to stare at Neville. “Would you?”

Neville winced. “Yes,” he said. “But then you and I might have a slightly different attitude towards it given our family history. And I mean…he’s not stupid- Harry he isn’t stupid,” he said when Harry opened his mouth, “He can count backwards from the birth date.”

Crap. “Okay,” he said, drawing in a breath, “I can do this. I am going to be responsible for an entire human being soon.” The gut-wrenching panic struck again. “Oh god, I’m gonna be responsible for a baby.”

“A half Potter, half Malfoy baby,” Neville pointed out slowly with some dawning horror. “Slightly regretting my career choice. What are the chances you won’t send it to Hogwarts?”

Xxx

That plan was scuppered about two days later.

“So,” Harry said, sitting on the floor staring at the newspaper, “your….” He winced and looked up. “Other father, was drugged at the party and attacked afterwards. And…me, I….Daddy was a thundering idiot and just went to throw up on the Petunias (because, kid if you’re gonna throw up on a flower, pick those) and went home and was absolutely oblivious. And um…your…step-mother, I guess, is on bed rest and they’re debating starting labour early to save her and the baby. So…technically I had sex with someone who was drugged.” God, the implications of that made him want to be sick.

That and the morning sickness.

“So, on balance, what with recovering from being attacked and his wife and baby…you and I are gonna just…” he looked down at his stomach. “Think it’s just gonna be you and me, kid. So if you could not come out with blond hair and a pointy chin and grey eyes…” he debated that for a moment, “that would be really handy. And I will, somehow, make this into something that is much less messy by the time you arrive.”

His stomach, still flat and somedays Harry could absolutely forget he was sharing it with his baby, did nothing, but he was certain that there was a radiating disapproval. 

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing it, “you and me both. I really think I’ve fucked this up.”

Xxx

“How is this a thing?” Harry asked with some despair as he glanced around the class he had let Hermione drag him to.

“It’s recommended,” Hermione said, looking a little nervous. “We need to become aware of our babies’ magic and our own. Research suggests this is the best way to avoid squibs or miscarriages.”

“It’s yoga and meditation,” Harry muttered, glancing around at the class. There was one other male there and only about ten of them. “If I hear one word about spirit or centre-”

“How you managed to get your OWLS is beyond me,” Hermione sighed.

xxx

Since it was just gonna be him and mini-Potter, he handed in his resignation. Robards looked stunned and then spent about an hour arguing with him to just take a brief career break.

No fucking way was he risking the kid being little more than an orphan. He’d ruined things with Malfoy or…shit, he couldn’t regret being so uselessly drunk that he’d had sex and stumbled off because, somehow, he already loved the kid, but he could have handled it better, he guessed, so he had to do all he could to give the kid a better start.

“Well,” Hermione said, the kitchen table that had once hosted order meetings now the scene of Harry’s career choice meetings. “So you want to be flexible and active but not dangerous.”

There was something wrong with him because the second she said ‘not dangerous’, he thought boring.

“Teaching?”

“At Hogwarts? That could possibly be more dangerous than being an auror,” Ron said, trying to sort out case files on the table.

“I second that,” Neville said as he sorted through his marking. “Also, at some point, you would have to teach your kid and their kid and Malfoy’s kid-”

“I’m out,” Harry muttered. “I bet there’s a whole pile of karma just waiting to hit. Let’s not help it.”

“I can make a list,” Hermione offered brightly. 

“You’ve got ages,” Neville pointed out. 

Xxx

Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy was born almost two weeks later, two months premature and while his father was still recovering from the attack.

“What we are going to take from this, is that you are really lucky that Malfoy is not going to be involved in naming you,” Harry said slowly, rubbing at his eyes. “Shit.”

Xxx

Astoria died not long after, the shock of what had happened to her husband and the strain of pregnancy and the labour not helping her at all.

The funeral was closed and private and the pictures that managed to surface in the Prophet was of a pale, too-still Malfoy standing with his mother and a few scattered faces that Harry recognised from school. The baby was still too ill to be away from the healers and Malfoy had looked as if walking was difficult and Harry wondered if it was grief or an injury.

Almost three months since they’d had sex and Malfoy’s life looked like it had been completely destroyed and the letter that he sent returned un-opened.

“Okay,” Harry whispered late at night as his mind kept whirring, “Okay so…we can revisit this. Because he can grieve and slowly get better and I can…be friendlier and then we can tell him. And that way, you could tell him and that, in all honesty might go down better because there is no way you can be as big a mess at this as I am.”

“And you have a brother,” he added. “Shit, kid. Your father…” Harry stared ahead trying to get his head around all that Malfoy had suffered, “Your father might just be the strongest person ever.”

Xxxx

“So,” Healer Jackson said with a smile, “How are you feeling?”

“I uh…good.” Harry stroked a hand over his stomach. “I think we’re both good. I mean…no bump yet.”

“It’ll come,” Healer Jackson soothed. “Your magic seems to have settled. You’re strong and healthy and there are good signs coming from the baby. Would you like to know the sex?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, rubbing his stomach. “Please.”

Xxx

“Think it’s wrong?” Ron said as Hermione went to the kitchen to put on the kettle, “to plan our kids getting married?”

“Sensible,” Harry said, flicking through the channels on the TV, “I mean we were meant to be brother in laws before I fucked it up with Ginny. We can set all the plans in motion but then the kids can, if they really have to, fall in love with other people.”

Hermione reappared in the kitchen doorway. “You had better not be marrying off my daughter,” she called.

“Daughter,” Ron said for the fourth time that evening before casting a longing look at Harry’s stomach. “Boys are easier, right? I mean…Ginny as a kid was a pain and Hermione was way too smart and I could barely keep up with either of them and oh god, what if she brings home a version of teenage me?”

“Harry’s son could inherit Harry’s taste in men,” Hermione offered.

“Yep. Drugged and about to be kidnapped,” Harry said, sliding down the sofa. “Gets me every time.”

“Mate, you have got to let it go,” Ron said with a sigh. “You didn’t know. Hell, for all you know, you were both drugged.” He and Hermione exchanged a look. “You need to focus on your son.”

Son.

Whoa was that scary.

Xxx

By the sixth month, Harry loved the boy, he really did, but the kid wriggled. Constantly. Probably some sort of Malfoy bloodline objecting to common surroundings.

“Come on,” Harry soothed, moving the baby as best he could. “Can you like…curl up. Curling up is so good. You know you want to.”

The baby remained stubbornly flopped out, as much as it could and then wriggled again and Harry hissed and winced as the baby started to find a comfortable position and slowly let himself be rolled back into a ball.

“You’re weird,” Harry said, returning to the book of baby names. 

Xxx

Seven months in, he found himself in the middle of a stupid duel with someone trying to rob Madame Mulkin’s because for a moment he forgot he wasn’t an auror and pregnant and not seventeen and immortal and it was fine because the thief was not the best dueller but then he slipped and fell awkwardly (which was beyond embarrassing) and was put on bed-rest.

“Really?” Molly huffed as she shuffled around his third sitting room and the only one he ever really used. “Duelling. In your condition?”

“Pregnant not dead,” Harry muttered petulantly. “And the baby enjoyed it,” he added. “He did fucking cartwheels afterwards.”

She swiped him over the head. “Don’t swear,” chided the woman who had shrieked bitch in the great hall of Hogwarts once, “and you need to be more careful, young man. You’re all this boy has.”

Yeah and whose fault was that? 

“Oh Harry,” she said, softly, apparently catching his expression and sitting on the sofa next to him as she stroked his hair, “We’re all here for you. I didn’t mean it like that. I just worry,” she added. “I don’t like you alone. Are you sure your young man won’t-”

“I can’t tell him,” Harry whispered. “And I genuinely mean that. I can’t get through to him and there’s way too much in his life at the moment, but the longer I leave it…” he shrugged and was shocked at the tears that welled up. 

“Do you love him?”

Harry snorted and shook his head. “No. But he’s…the father. The other father, I mean,” he said with a weak chuckle. “Merlin, magic is weird,” he admitted.

Molly smiled and leaned into press a kiss to his head.

“Molly,” Harry said, reaching for her hand as she moved to pull away. “I know…I don’t…” he huffed at himself and took a breath. “Could the baby call you and Arthur-”

“Of course,” she said, squeezing his hand. “Of course, Harry. This will be our first grandson, as far as I’m concerned.”

Xxx

It had been so long since anything of Malfoy had been seen in the Prophet or just generally, that the sight of him with a thin looking blond-haired baby were quite a shock. Scorpius had to be about five months old now, but he looked tiny and Harry found himself studying the picture hard to try and see if it contained some magical sign that Malfoy was ready to find out about the bastard child he’d sired on his school nemesis. 

Shockingly, nothing really obvious jumped out.

“That,” he said to the bump, “is your father and brother.” He counted on his fingers and then glanced at the calendar. “You got about two weeks kid before you and he end up in different school years. Which…” he debated it for a moment. “Hopefully by that point he’ll know. Otherwise, you can definitely be the one to tell Malfoy. You’ll be eleven, I’m sure you can handle it.”

Xxx

He sent another letter, hoping to strike up a conversation at least. 

It returned unopened.

He tried Parkinson.

_Potter, the publicity stunt is boring. Leave Draco in peace. Please._

Okay.

He drafted a reply. That went something like: _Sure, will do. Can you pass on that he knocked me up when he was drugged and his son is going to be born any day now._

But then he crossed out _his_ because the baby was Harry’s too and then that looked petty and maybe it all seemed flippant when he wrote it like that and she’d think it was a joke and what if he wrote something on paper that meant Malfoy could just swoop in and steal the baby.

He chucked it in the fire and sat, stroking his constantly wriggling son who was definitely acting like a dog turning around to find the perfect spot to sit in. 

“You have been in there long enough to know the best spots,” Harry muttered at his son. “just… settle down.”

The baby didn’t settle down. And on the 31st of August started to demand he was let out.

On the 1st September, he came screeching into the world like he was training to be a banshee. 

Xxx

“He’s gorgeous,” Hermione whispered, having a cuddle which was surprisingly easy when she had her own bump. His son seemed to be half resting on her daughter and seemed to be musing over whether the position was comfortable.

“He’s tiny,” Ron said, looking at the baby with some trepidation. “Like…really tiny. Ours will be bigger, right?” Ron asked, Hermione.

“God, I hope not,” Hermione muttered, shifting uncomfortably and then letting out a pleased squeak when the baby let out a tiny yawn and fluttered a mitten covered hand in the air. “What’s he called?”

“Felix,” Harry said. “Lucked out, right?”

Hermione smiled at that and exchanged a look with Ron. “You want to hold him?”

Ron shook his head quickly. 

“You don’t want to get in practise before our daughter is born?”

“He’s not Ron’s trial run,” Harry protested, making grabby hands at the baby. “Give him back.”

Xxx

Felix was perfect and gorgeous and if an entire army came for his son, Harry would kill every single one of them, but the kid cried. And cried. And it was perfectly normal, but usually people had another person to share the crying with and Harry had no-one at home and fucking hell, how bad would it be to use a sleeping potion on his baby?

Xxx

Felix had blond wisps coming through and Harry hummed as the baby sobbed into his neck while he cooked up the stew. “I know,” he said, soothingly, “How terrible is it that Uncle Ron made such a loud noise. He’s a wanker, isn’t he?”

Behind him, Ron yawned. “If Hermione kicks me out of bed one more time in this pregnancy, I’m selling the baby. To like, a really good family, but fuck me, mate. And then that to look forward to?”

Harry turned around and stared at him. “Think he’s being mean to you,” he said as Felix let out a wet hiccup, settling a little. “Want me to kill him for you?”

The baby huffed.

“Still not sure what that means,” Harry admitted. 

Ron snorted and then stood. “Come on then,” he said, drawing in a deep, steeling breath. “Let’s…have a cuddle.”

Harry helped him take the baby and watched, amused as Felix was settled into the crook of Ron’s arm and he would swear Ron had looked less scared when they’d got caught in that haunted manor house last year. “Harry,” Ron said urgently, “Harry, he moves.”

Laughing, Harry turned back to the stew. “Sit down,” he suggested. 

Xxx

Rose Weasley was born at the end of September and Harry grinned because he’d been worried about Felix and Scorpius not being in the same year and had forgotten that Felix and Rose would be. 

Ron was staring at Rose when Harry got to visit. He looked stunned beyond belief and Hermione smiled as Harry sat down on the bed by her.

“Think he’s a bit taken,” she said, watching her husband and daughter before she peered down at the sleeping Felix in Harry’s arms. She gave the baby a soft stroke with her finger. “He’s getting big.”

“That’s because he doesn’t stop eating,” Harry said.

“Wonder where he gets that from,” Ron chipped in.

Xxx

His parents’ grave remained silent when he took Felix there and his son gnawed determinedly at his own fist; he seemed deeply proud of the ability and pouted whenever someone risked life and limb by sliding their finger in to pull the fist out.

“Hi,” Harry whispered, crouching down and Felix let out an annoyed sound at the change in height. “So, this is your grandson,” he said, pressing a kiss to the fluffy blond hair. “Felix James Potter.” He looked up, trying to remember what they had looked like when he’d seen them. “He has your eyes, mum,” he added and then hummed. “And…I get it. I used to think it must have been such a burden, me and the prophecy and everything, but…I don’t know what I’d do,” he whispered, pulling Felix to him and then leaned forward, resting his head against the stone and, for a second, he thought he could feel a gentle touch on his back. “I’m fucking it up,” he whispered and turned so that he was sitting against the grave, turning Felix so the baby was looking out across the graveyard. “He’ll hate me. When he asks why there’s just me, what do I say?” He let out a breath, “And I’ve barely seen Teddy. I should go see him.” 

Xxx

Six year old Teddy was deeply unimpressed by Felix who took one look at his surroundings and promptly started to snore. But Andromeda took Felix and was seemingly delighted with the baby while Harry and Teddy ran around playing auror and dark wizard and possibly Teddy managed to feel a little less upset that his godfather was no longer an auror.

“Thanks,” Harry said as Andromeda handed him a cup of tea while Teddy slept curled up on his lap. “Felix all right?”

“He’s fine. He’s a sweet little thing.”

“He’s deceptive,” Harry said with a small laugh. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around as much.”

“I think we can forgive you,” Andromeda said. “Harry.”

“Mm,” he said, making sure none of the tea spilled upon the boy in his lap.

“Who’s the father?”

He looked up and met her gaze solemnly. “Me,” he said firmly. “Just me.”

Xxx

Christmas was loud and lively and Felix was pointing and babbling away with his big green eyes trying to take everything in while Rose slept through most of the proceedings. Ginny announced her engagement to Dean Thomas and Bill and Fleur were having another baby. Teddy and Victorie played together outside in the snow with Charlie and George throwing snowballs at them and Arthur and Molly slow danced in the kitchen, whispering to each other.

He tried to picture it. Draco Malfoy there too and that frail little baby that he guarded so determinedly. And then Narcissa came into the picture and maybe she and Andromeda could finally bury their grudge and-

And Lucius and Arthur could have a lovely chat and Molly could explain to Narcissa exactly how she had killed Bellatrix and Harry could get Malfoy to show off the finer details about the effects of throwing unknown curses at each other.

Stupid.

Xxx

_“Fuck, Potter,” Malfoy hissed as he finally let the kiss end and Harry stared up at him, dazed. Before thought could flood in, Malfoy was back; lips, teeth and tongue intoxicating and Harry scrambled at his back, trying to tug him in closer, the wall freezing against his back._

_“We shouldn’t do this,” Malfoy whispered, sounding torn as he nipped at Harry’s ear. “I shouldn’t do this.”_

_“Okay,” Harry panted, even as he dropped his hand down to pull at Malfoy’s belt because Malfoy’s hand was already in his trousers. “That’s fine.”_

_Malfoy let out a huffed amused breath and dropped to his knees._

xxx

Harry stared down at his sleeping son, arms flung out and blond hair matted and fat little belly rising and falling with ease.

“You were made this time last year,” he said with a smile, “which is beyond weird.” He reached down a hand and stroked his thumb across the soft cheek. “I love you,” he said, words that he so rarely had ever spoken to anyone, tripping from his lips with ease. “Never doubt that.”

He sat back and dragged the hand over his mouth. “Fuck,” he whispered.

Xxx

“Andy,” he said the next time he went to see Teddy, “It’s Malfoy,” he said, swallowing. “So…I guess, meet your great nephew.”

She didn’t seem too surprised. “I can tell Narcissa,” she offered.

“You two talk?”

“No,” she said, almost amused by the idea, “but…sometimes there are things more important.”

Xxx

A week later, there was a booming knock. Repeatedly thumping on the wards around the protected house and Harry threw a quick charm around Felix’s room before his son woke up and howled like the demon spawn he could resemble. 

The fire place was thumping a blue magical colour and then back to the normal flames. Having some idea of what was coming, Harry pulled his dressing gown tighter, took a breath and let Malfoy through.

He stepped into the lounge looking as if he was wrath incarnate. He didn’t say anything, but he looked like he was about to shake apart with fury. “I swear to Merlin, Potter, if this is some joke-”

“Yeah,” Harry said, sitting on the arm of one of the chairs. “you know what, I was just thinking what could be more funny than to pretend to give birth to Malfoy’s spawn-”

“Do not refer to him like that-”

“Don’t tell me how to talk about my son,” Harry snapped back. “He could be the fucking second coming and you wouldn’t have a clue-”

“Because you didn’t tell me-”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I return your letters? Did I refuse to leave my manor house? Did my mother cut off her sister?” Did my friends refuse to pass on messages?”

Malfoy opened his mouth and then closed it again. “And yet you found a way now. The second you had put me down on the birth certificate, my family tree would have been updated-”

“Along with half the wizarding world. Forgive me for not wanting that sprawled across the front page-”

“You are always on the front fucking page,” Malfoy exploded. “You sneezed last week and it got on there.”

“It was a slow week-” Harry groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is…are you just here to yell?”

Malfoy said nothing and then almost collapsed into the sofa. He looked exhausted and thin and Harry felt something in him soften a little at the sight of him. “When the hell did we even…”

“The charity ball when you were…” Malfoy looked up and something odd crossed his face. “I was…really drunk. I’m sorry. I…we must have and then you must have been…” he winced. “I had no idea. Malfoy, if I had…”

The man held up a hand for Harry to stop.

“Yeah,” Malfoy said slowly. “When else could it have been.”

“Look I know that he wasn’t…it’s not the best conception story,” Harry said uncertainly. “And you’ve had…a shit year.” Malfoy said nothing but closed his eyes. “So…no judgement, Malfoy. As involved as you want.”

Malfoy didn’t say anything. Instead, he stared at the fireplace and Harry was struck as to how much he fit in this room. It was the formal room that Harry tended to avoid but that the main floo was connected to and Hermione said it was something like the main reception room, whatever the hell that meant. Harry avoided it like the plague, but Malfoy looked like some lord, the fire playing on his pale face.

“You’ve kept him out of the papers.”

“Hermione did it,” Harry said quietly. 

Sucking in a breath, Malfoy glared at him. “I meant…I meant I don’t…I was barely aware that it was a boy.”

“Felix,” Harry offered. “For luck.”

Malfoy snorted. “I can cope with that,” he muttered. 

“Felix James Potter,” Harry added, unable to not. Malfoy winced and shook his head, but looked back at the flames. 

“Is he…how is he?”

“You want to see him?”

Malfoy jolted like Harry had Avada-Kedavrad him. But he nodded after a few seconds and Harry nodded back. “Just…can we not argue when we do?” he asked as he stood slowly.

Malfoy looked deeply insulted. “I’m not an idiot, Potter.”

They went up in silence and Harry led the way to avoid seeing what he imagined was Malfoy’s disapproval. 

The baby was in his typical position when Malfoy and Harry walked in. Curious, he watched Malfoy’s face become very still. Then a trembling finger reached out and stroked the little hand.

“What will it take?” Malfoy asked slowly, “To be involved.”

“Think that’s up to you,” Harry said quietly.

“Of all the people,” Malfoy whispered.

Wow. Still a complete dick.

Xxx

In March, Ron turned twenty-four and Malfoy met Harry in a muggle park.

Harry wasn’t entirely sure which made him feel more unnerved because on the one hand, Ron was pretty much in his mid-twenties and sometimes when Harry watched him with Rose, all he could see was the idiot who had once turned his wand on himself to see if he could add a few more inches and weren’t they meant to have everything all sorted by now?

But Malfoy in a muggle park? Harry had made the suggestion as a starting point for negotiations and had been baffled when Malfoy had just said yes without argument.

He came alone and his eyes were fixated on Felix from the very first moment. Awake, the six-month-old was staring at everything because he was a nosy little beggar. All green eyes and blond wisps and plump cheeks, his son could have been straight from one of those magazine covers about babies and how wonderful they were. 

“You want to hold him?” Harry asked.

Malfoy blinked at him and then nodded.  Harry looked down at his bundled-up son and held him up to Malfoy who slowly took him and drew Felix close.

His son studied Malfoy seriously, almost suspiciously and Malfoy stared back at him. Then Felix let loose a loud pleased shriek, tried to headbutt his father and became very focused on Malfoy’s shirt collar. A small smile started to pull at Malfoy’s lips as he studied the baby.

“You good while I go shopping?”

Malfoy looked stunned. “I thought you’d stay.”

“Do you want me to?” Harry asked doubtfully. “I just…if I’m honest, the idea of the manor is…I’m gonna need to build up to that.” If ever allow it.

Malfoy nodded slowly. “I thought…I imagined you’d make this harder.”

“Fuck you,” Harry snapped. “I’ll be ten minutes. Try not to torture anyone in front of him.”

Xxx

He returned in eight minutes, too angry to be useful anywhere else. But when he came back, Malfoy was sat on the bench with Felix and was crying.

Shit.

He gave them another ten minutes.

Xxx

 “No?” Harry asked as he hitched the baby up against his side again. “What do you mean no?”

Malfoy was staring out at the view from Felix’s bedroom window and uncomfortably seemed to be close to tears again. “I can’t,” he said again, his voice wobbling. 

“You’re a fucking coward,” Harry hissed. “You’re just going to walk away from him?”

“How will this work?” Malfoy asked the rooftops of London. “My father is released this year. Will you let your son in a house where he lives? Or even to the manor? What about leaving him in my company, do you trust the people I socialise with?”

No. Harry drew in a breath. Absolutely not.

“You’ll… eventually you’ll stop me seeing him,” Malfoy said, turning around and heading to the stairs. “Just beating you to it, Potter.”

“When he asks,” Harry said, staring furiously ahead, “Shall I just tell him that you decided he wasn’t worth it?”

“Believe me, Potter,” Malfoy hissed, “It’s better for all concerned if that space on his birth certificate remains blank.”

Harry remained rigid, not entirely trusting himself not to move and hex the bastard.

Xxx

As April came, Harry found himself furious with the world and barely letting his son leave his arms. Hermione came over and sat with him and he found himself laughing reluctantly when she unveiled that Rose was sat in a bunny onesie. 

“Never tell Ron,” she said, looking deeply ashamed of herself. 

“Your secret’s safe,” he said, smiling and stroking a hand over Rose’s hood covered hair. Felix eyed him up warily as if sensing it might soon be his fate too. “I could kill Malfoy,” he hissed, lying back down on the floor and staring up at Hermione. 

“You did come at this from a slightly unrealistic angle,” Hermione said softly, “and I’m not saying he was right, Harry. But that’s a lot to dump on him all of a sudden. And…what were you going to do? Have him meet Felix in parks until he was eighteen?”

“I sense you want me to say no,” Harry sighed and Felix clambered onto him. “Fine. I just…the idea of Felix at Malfoy Manor is…”

“I get that,” Hermione agreed. “And he won’t leave it because of his other son. Who from what I gather is still sick. And uh…Ron got hold on the report from last year and was furious. I imagine that a consultant or a desk worker might get their hands on it.”

“I think that might count as stalking,” Harry mumbled and then laughed when Felix crawled onto his face. “Yes, kisses,” he said, accepting his son’s gentle headbutt. 

“You’ve gone way past that,” Hermione said, lifting Felix up and sitting him on her lap. “And you’re bored, Harry. Admit it. I have maternity leave still, I can look after him if you go back on flexible hours.”

Merlin, he was tempted.

Xxx

“Fine,” was Robards sole contribution to the conversation. “We need someone to specialise in undoing wards or newly created curses. Take your pick.”

Newly created curses seemed…fitting somehow.

“You will need to actually learn how to do that,” Robards added. 

“I’ll figure it out.”

Xxx

Spell-craft was actually kind of interesting once he started to look into it. He’d never considered how Snape had created his own curses or even how someone went about it. And the pregnancy meditation crap seemed to have some basic principles which he could use to his advantage.

Still, basic principles only got you so far. Sometimes, you just had to take a few risks.

“So…” Ron said, staring at the blackened remains of the seventh bedroom. “How long do you want us to look after Felix for?”

“Just tonight,” Harry argued, staring at the smoking curtains. “I’ll get the hang of this tonight if it kills me.”

“Mm,” Ron said. “And if it does?”

“Then tell my son I loved him.”

Xxx

By the time Felix was almost eleven months old and Harry was twenty-four, he had some knowledge. And a basement lab to try things out in. 

And he might have had a few mishaps. But never with Felix in the house and only one had landed him at the burrow because he refused to go anywhere near a medi-centre.

“I mean,” Robards said with a very long sigh, “It’ll do.”

“Great. Can I access old case files to you know, get better at this?”

Robards made a movement as if to say ‘get on with it’.

“As well as the ones with Malfoy’s attack?”

Robards almost groaned into the desk. “Sweet Circe, please tell me this wasn’t the reason you did this.”

“It’s not the only reason?”

Xxx

Harry sat in the auror’s office and stared at the files that Ron couldn’t bring home. Malfoy had been at the charity ball without his wife and couldn’t remember anything from about dinner onwards. Astoria had meant to go, but hadn’t. And, at just after midnight, Malfoy had been on the grounds of the Zabini residence and there was a used-up portkey that had taken him to a room just outside of Manchester where he had been held for four days.

It wasn’t unheard of for auror’s missions to not be discussed across the departments and Harry had taken two days off after the ball to hide from the press and to get roaringly drunk with his friends. But it seemed odd that no-one had mentioned it after or that he and Ron as standby staff hadn’t been hauled in and doused with a sobering potion.

The three aurors that had been assigned the case surprised Harry too: Innis had been squeaky new at the time, and Carlson and Perkins were what Harry would charitably call job-worths. And the deputy that had assigned the case was Irene Matthews, a woman who had spoken most harshly at the trials.

Four days.

In those four days, Malfoy had been tortured. There was no other was to describe the medical records on file. Lingering effects of cruciatus, nerve damage, torn muscles, dehydration. It was like reading records on those who had been captured by the last dregs of Death Eaters a few years ago.

It was exactly like reading those reports, Harry realised. 

No arrests. The details in the Prophet when he looked back, were scarce. The records from St Mungo’s suggested that Malfoy had stayed there for a shorter time than he had in captivity. No follow up, no recommended mind healers. Nothing.

Case was listed as closed.

Xxx

It was tempting to go in, all guns blazing and start throwing around the epitaph ‘Boy Who Lived to kill the Dark Lord’ around, but-

But.

Harry sat on the floor in Grimmauld Palace, his research scattered around in untidy piles that Hermione unhelpfully tried to organise her way every time she came over, and watched his son chase a lime around the room.

Felix James Malfoy would have a very different life. The son of a well-known Death Eater, descended from the loudest, most bigoted family, how many would target him? Or refuse him help?

What had Malfoy seen when he’d come here? His mother’s family home transformed into a place that most people associated with the Order of the Phoenix. A happy, safe and well-loved confident baby who feared nothing because he had no concept that he’d have to. A golden boy who was protected by the press and the ministry alike. 

“Do you ever worry,” Harry asked Neville quietly, “about what we’ll pass on?”

“How do you mean?” Neville asked, equally quiet.

“I have no concept about boundaries for a child or what’s safe,” Harry said quietly. “I worry that he’ll feel left out so I take him everywhere and feed him whenever he wants it. That’s…I think about my childhood and I can figure out why. I…somewhere along the line developed a pathological fear of dealing with anything seriously or remotely talking about my feelings. I’m addicted to danger and let’s face it, I’m probably the most dangerous thing for this kid.”

Neville hummed at that, “Okay,” he said. “I can…I’m terrified I’ll have a kid as shy as I was. And I’m equally terrified of dealing with it as my family did.”

“And Malfoy?” Harry asked. “Think we can all imagine what he’d be afraid of passing on to his kids.”

“He’s hardly innocent, Harry,” Neville pointed out.

“No,” Harry agreed. “But neither am I.”

Xxx

Felix turned one and they had a birthday party. His son was delighted by the snitch wrapping paper and kept trying to pounce on the racing snitches. The baby was starting to take staggering steps around the room and would make demanding noises at whoever he picked as his target that minute to help. 

“It’s like watching Crufts,” Harry said to Hermione who sniggered into Rose’s hair. 

“Dada,” Felix whined, looking around for him. “Here.” He pointed down at the floor by him and looked expectantly at Harry. 

Jesus, he could sound like Malfoy when he wanted. “Come to Daddy then,” he said, opening his arms and Felix eyed him up and then shrieked and toddled over on unsteady feet before falling head first halfway along. The kid glared down at the floor and then at Harry, frustrated tears welling up and Harry sighed, scooping him up and pressing a kiss to his smooth little cheek. “I know,” he whispered. “You did so well.”

Felix huffed again. “No.”

“Oh,” Arthur said, tugging gently at Felix’s trainer covered foot, “of course he would learn that word.”

Harry was gonna blame Malfoy for that one.

Xxx

The older Felix got, the more Harry loved him. Not that he hadn’t adored the kid from about an hour after knowing he was coming, but he was becoming his own little person now. He would scribble all over paper and stick his tongue out as if he was creating an epic masterpiece. He was the loudest eater Harry had ever come across and would do pretty much anything for a raspberry. The blond hair was darkening into curls the colour of old gold and his face was showing more of Harry’s features. 

It was almost impossible to remember what life had been like before Felix had been born.

Xxx

“Okay,” Harry said, placing the bracelet around his son’s little wrist. “Shall we try this out?”

Felix stared at him earnestly. “Da,” he announced happily. 

Okay. This bit was a little…Harry picked up a bread knife and threw it at his son.

The effect was immediate. It felt like something was sucking his magic out through his eyes and he gasped and bowed his head over. He just about caught sight of the shield that sprung up around Felix and let out a breath.

And then reached for a pot to puke in.

Xxx

So it did need some refinement, but it was better than what he’d had before. He sat with the bracelet most nights after work and worked on the spell layers that he was putting in. And, as much as he had hated the idea a year or so ago, found himself meditating more and more to follow the flow of magic.

Which was what he was doing when Ginny turned up practically spitting feathers. “Lucius Malfoy has been released,” she announced before throwing herself into his armchair. “Dean thinks I’m being dramatic.”

“Dean sucks,” Harry said on complete automatic since they’d broken up and she’d started to date him. “Malfoys suck. You not included,” he said to the baby who was holding his stuffed turtle and absently chewing on it while he stared at the charm layers Harry was working with.

“He shouldn’t be out,” Ginny sighed. “He tried to kill me when I was eleven. He’s only out because of-”

“Me?” Harry asked, putting the charms into stasis for a moment to look over at her. “I did speak for them at the trials.”

“I get Draco Malfoy. I even get speaking for his mother-”

“And to do that, I had to speak for his father,” Harry allowed. “You’ve seen the conditions?”

“No magic,” Ginny said, shifting. “No wands, no casting. Pretty much house arrest and for the manor to be checked twice a month.” She shook her head. “He needs to be in Azkaban.”

“Think the family would agree,” Harry offered. “But the ministry wants the excuse to check on the Malfoy family at regular intervals. So…no-one wins but them.”

She was silent. “Thought you’d rant with me,” she said a little mulish. 

“Tempting,” he said. “But I can come and see you after I next see him. We can get roaringly drunk and slag off the shithead that is the other father of my son.”

Xxx

He was called in to work with Fiona McLewis to work with the new bindings for Lucius Malfoy. It was more of a learning experience for him, but on the bright side, it did require him to see the Malfoy family.

He was determined to see it as a bright side.

Malfoy…Draco, looked less than pleased by the situation as Harry checked the bindings as they waited for the aurors to apparate in with Lucius. “Why are you here again?” Malfoy asked.

Harry peered at him and waved his wand, lifting the layers so that he could double check them. “My job. Some of us have them. You know, to buy food and support children-”

“Do you need money?” Malfoy asked awkwardly, but quickly.

Harry shook his head. “There are vaults and properties and some sort of shares…” Harry shrugged because he had no idea what that meant. “I just…prefer earning it.”

Malfoy looked away as if Harry had insulted him, or perhaps he had. 

“How is he?” Malfoy asked quietly. 

“Demanding,” Harry said, staring at the spells. “He learned the word no a few months ago. That’s been fun. But he walks and says words and that eyebrow raise thing is apparently genetic.” Harry nodded at the spells and reduced them back into the bindings again. “Does your father know?”

“Mother told him,” Malfoy said after a moment. “We…I would not have.”

“Shit,” Harry said, sitting back in the seat. “I’ve er…I’ve been working on something. Like this, but with protection charms instead. For Felix. So maybe…we might be able to have a practical discussion.”

“Potter…that’s so far down the list of reasons to-”

“He’s your son.” Harry folded his arms. “For better or worse, that’s the truth. And yeah, maybe in our world, he’d be better off just being my son. But that’s not the case. And let’s be honest, how likely is it that no-one will ever find out?”

Malfoy said nothing. 

Xxx

Lucius was as pleasant as ever. When Harry stepped up to double check the spells again once they’d been set, he studied Harry with those cold eyes, face turned into it’s typical sneer. “Mr Potter,” he said, chin raised as he looked down his nose at Harry, “I believe you’ve attempted to pollute my bloodline

Harry said nothing.

“How is the bastard whelp?”

Harry looked up. “I had Voldemort in my head for sixteen years. You wanna test the effect of that?”

He didn’t know what his expression showed, but Lucius’s gaze sharpened a little and his eyes flickered over Harry, a little more warily than he had been. 

Xxx

“Potter?” Malfoy asked as Harry strode down the quiet hallway. “Potter!”

“Not now,” Harry hissed and then barely restrained the urge to hex the wizard when Malfoy bundled them both into an empty meeting room, slamming the door behind him. “What part of not now-”

“So what? You just dangle that in front of me and then-”

“Withdraw it when your father refers to my son as a bastard whelp and an attempt to pollute the Malfoy line?”

Malfoy’s face tightened and he stepped back, clearly furious. Then, unnervingly, started to laugh; a bitter and hollow sound that twisted out of him. “Of course,” he hissed. He sat down, looking suddenly tired.

“We…another day,” Harry offered, a little uncomfortable. “He just… I’d forgotten what he’s like. Feel like I’m suddenly fifteen again.”

Malfoy nodded in agreement and then swallowed looking unbearably nervous. “I don’t want my son growing up with that,” he said, so quietly that Harry could barely hear him. For a moment, Harry almost pointed out that there was no fucking way that Felix would, until he remembered that Malfoy had been particularly prolific. “Scorpius?” he asked, not entirely comfortable with the name.

Malfoy nodded again. “He’s fragile. My father…he doesn’t tolerate that.”

“You could always remind him the terrible fate that will await the Malfoy line should Scorpius refuse. Can you imagine his face with a half blood ruling the manor?”

Malfoy almost (almost) managed a smile. “All the more reason he’ll want to push Scorpius to be strong.”

“You won’t let it happen,” Harry said gently. 

Malfoy cupped his hands over his mouth. 

“Look, Malfoy…it’s a lot. I get that. So…if you need a few months to get this sorted…Felix won’t know. He’s one. Or we can work something out now, but…I just…I get that life is…tricky.”

Malfoy glanced over and then nodded slowly. “Felix has you,” he said sounding embarrassed. “Scorpius only has-”

“Okay,” Harry said. “We’ll talk about it in the New Year. And…the wards around the house will accept you. If you need a peek.”

Malfoy blinked.

“At Felix, not at…” Harry shifted. “You know.”

Xxx

Felix’s second Christmas was louder and there was another baby at the table and Dean and Ginny were arguing about some minute detail of their wedding and both seemed to think Harry was a sounding board. He agreed with Ginny on principle. After all, she’d once had sex with him. They had a bond.

And, that night, Malfoy snuck in through the wards and rocked Felix to sleep leaving behind a Serpopard stuffed toy which looked beautiful and was actually oddly cute. 

Felix guarded it from Rose like it was a golden ticket to a chocolate factory.

“What shall we call it?” Harry asked Felix.

“Hedhog,” Felix answered, pulling at the tail.

The kid was so strange sometimes.

Xxx

The next time Harry saw Malfoy was at the end of January when Felix was standing by the glass door in the kitchen and slamming his hands on it.

“Snow,” the baby was demanding.

Malfoy looked bewildered by the scene of Harry cooking, the TV on and Felix having the start of an epic temper tantrum because the weather did not bow to his every whim. “What…is he okay?” Malfoy asked, stepping close.

“It isn’t snowing and Felix hasn’t grasped that the weather does not respond to his every want,” Harry said, chopping through the potato in front of him.

Malfoy glanced at the sky through the glass and bent down to their son, speaking softly and pointing up with one hand as his wand appeared in the other.

“You’ll create a monster,” Harry warned. “And let’s face it, any mix of you and me is halfway there already.”

But it was too late. Thick flurries of snow started to fall and Felix let out a delighted shriek.

Spoilt.

But he couldn’t help the smile that formed at the sight of Malfoy standing with Felix in his arms, the pair of them staring out of the window at the snow and it was perhaps the first time that he’d seen them both with similar expressions on their faces. Felix leaned into Malfoy’s chin, Felix’s hair much darker than Malfoy’s and Harry felt a stir of…something.

He looked down at the stew, trying to refocus. “Bad day?” he heard himself asked and inwardly rolled his eyes at himself. 

“My father is continuously making comments about….my attack. Weakness breeds weakness.”

“He’s a dick,” Harry said to the stew.

Malfoy turned. “You shouldn’t swear. He’ll start to pick it up soon,” he warned, apparently unable to take his eyes off of Felix. “But yes.” Again, he almost smiled.

One day, perhaps Malfoy would smile properly.

Xxx

Life picked up a little quicker suddenly. A year of studying and learning and Robards was starting to put him back into use again, investigating the remains of spells the standard auror couldn’t identify. Hermione was pregnant again and worked from home quite often, examining laws and lobbying for them to be changed and she was good enough at what she did that she could take most of the work home and watch two precocious children. Molly helped where she could and, on weekends, Neville or Ginny chipped in too. And Harry’s hours were flexible – there would be weeks with nothing and he’d have Rose and Felix together and then a week where he’d be barely home (or need to experiment at home which was never a good place for a baby to be).

Once a month or so, Malfoy would appear around dinner time and look after Felix in the evening. Once he came around without anyone being there and left a note, but otherwise they managed. Harry sort of left the two alone whenever Malfoy came over.

It wasn’t as if Malfoy was coming to spend time with him. They’d talk briefly, sometimes more nights than others it would give Malfoy a place to sound roughly 0.5% of his grievances with his father, and even that was enough to make Harry hate Lucius Malfoy even more.

And then it was May and Harry was at home nursing a broken hand and a bruised collarbone and Felix did not understand why that meant he couldn’t be carried around. And Ron was in with the healers from a miscast spell and Hermione was towards the end of her pregnancy and fuck it all, Malfoy could damn well pull his weight.

Harry sent Kreacher because there was no way he was sticking his head in the floo to Malfoy Manor when Lucius was wandering around, bound magic or no. 

Malfoy didn’t come.

At least, not that night.

“Potter,” he announced the next night. “I am not free babysitting-” he trailed off at the sight of Harry.

“For the love of God, just put him to bed,” Harry pleaded, trying to soothe their son who was sobbing his little heart out, far too confused by what was going on. “Please, Draco.”

Perhaps it was the use of his first name, perhaps it was Felix’s exhausted hiccups, but Malfoy swooped in instantly, taking Felix from Harry which made their son wail in a second wave of tears and reach for Harry again.

“Shush,” Malfoy said, rubbing Felix’s back and rocking him gently. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he whispered over and over again. “See, he’s still here,” he added, turning so Felix’s tired green eyes could fix on Harry again who almost collapsed into the chair next to him.  “I’ll get him calm and then take him up,” Malfoy said, a little hesitantly.

Harry nodded at the logic, exhausted. And when a cool hand touched his chin, he found himself looking up in surprise as Malfoy tilted his face to study the bruises on his face.

“What happened?” Malfoy asked tightly.

“Some…” Harry hesitated and then sighed. “Some wannabe Death Eaters in Sussex. They designed a new curse. It’s like a targeted explosion. We had to get close enough to study the spell to find a counter. Ron took more of it than I did.”

Malfoy continued to rock Felix in one arm as his grey gaze roamed down and he frowned at Harry’s bumpy shoulder and bandaged hand. “There should be a spell to heal,” he huffed.

“Not wise with new spells like this. It’s the pressure of it. They were worried about destabilisation of the bones. So…we’re waiting for the healers to do their trials. I just…right hand is injured and left shoulder. It’s not given me too many options with Felix.”

Malfoy opened his mouth and then winced. “Your house elf wasn’t…he didn’t say-”

“He hates me. I cook and won’t let him be Felix’s personal slave. Which is an insult because, in his eyes, Felix is a way better master than I am.”

“I’ll deal with him,” Malfoy said and then shook his head. “I know how.”

“This gonna be like Dobby part two?” Harry snapped.

“I can get him loyal without…without my father’s methods.”

Too tired to care, Harry nodded and then reached out with his good hand and shit shoulder to run a hand through Felix’s sweat-soaked hair. “Go to sleep, baby,” he suggested. “You should have gone down hours ago.”

Malfoy said nothing but took him up and Harry could hear Felix start to grizzle on the way up to his room and he had to be the worst parent on the planet because he couldn’t bring himself to follow them up and instead trusted that Malfoy would get him to settle eventually. 

He was so exhausted, he didn’t even realise that Malfoy had come back down until he felt a blanket settle over him and then his hand being examined gently. “He all right?” Harry asked, not opening his eyes.

“He’s protective,” Malfoy said gently. “Like father like son.”

“Mm,” Harry mumbled and then cracked open an eye. “What are you doing?”

“Checking your hand. I…Scorpius has…I’m better at healing spells than I used to be.” He unwrapped the bandages and then hissed. “Merlin’s tooth, Harry, why aren’t you with the healers?”

“Hate healers,” Harry said, shifting a little and trying not to look at the pulpy mess that was his hand. “They said they’d have answers tomorrow.”

“They’d better,” Malfoy muttered. “You should…you shouldn’t sleep down here.”

“I always sleep down here,” Harry said, amused. “I can’t sleep upstairs.”

Malfoy looked puzzled, but carefully started to re-wrap the bandages. “You’re an idiot,” he whispered, but there was almost a fondness to his words. 

“Yeah,” Harry smiled, closing his eyes. “But that’s hardly news, is it?”

“No,” Malfoy agreed and then he leaned forward and then sighed, his breath warm on Harry’s forehead. “Get some sleep, Potter.”

Xxx

In the morning, Malfoy was still there, but he must have gone home at some point because, in his arms, there was another child while Felix was snuggled up with Harry when he woke.

“I need to go,” Malfoy said, his eldest son asleep in his arms as Harry stirred and curled around Felix. 

“What time is it?” Harry asked.

“Five,” Malfoy replied. “Felix woke up and then screamed half the house down until I brought him here.”

“Belligerent git,” Harry mumbled, smiling into his son’s hair. “Told you, demanding like you.”

Malfoy snorted. “As contrary as you,” he corrected. “I’ll be back in the evening. We…I…there are appointments we need to keep.”

Harry waved him off and Felix wriggled around. “Aw, kid, I’m getting pregnancy flashbacks. Just pick a spot,” Harry huffed at the baby. Then watched as Malfoy bent close to press a kiss to Felix’s little hand and stood, disappearing in a whirl of fire.

Xxx

Draco must have come back after Harry had fallen asleep on the floor with Felix because he woke up on the sofa with a note floating above his face saying that Felix was in his cot and there was a blanket and pillow.

And Kreacher followed the spirit of every order Harry ever gave for the rest of his life.

Xxx

Malfoy came around once more and then left the country for four months when the ministry finally allowed him to visit West Africa to explore some less common healing techniques for Scorpius. He sat in Harry’s kitchen looking deeply guilty and holding Felix as if he might just apparate away with the boy.

Probably the best thing for him to get out of Malfoy Manor and out of the country. The agreement prohibited Malfoy being able to portkey back and to request a floo set-up would have highlighted Malfoy’s relationship to Felix.

“Just…avoid getting killed,” Malfoy suggested as his parting shot.

“Always do,” Harry had grinned.

Xxx

Hermione gave birth to Hugh in July (which was obviously the best month to do so) and Harry found himself somewhat bewildered as to how big Felix had got in comparison as a child approaching his second birthday. His little god-son was cute and had a sticking up tuft of red hair which Harry found hilarious. 

Felix’s birthday came and went and this time had he and Rose running around like lunatics. Halloween raced by and Harry found himself sitting down with a bunch of Hogwarts students trying to explain to them why trying to create seer spells could potentially melt your brains out and then trying to be sympathetic to their complaints about Trelawny. 

They did fireworks night which Ron found baffling and Felix stood solemnly with his little sparkler in his hands and seemed to think it might be his first wand if the way he tried to wave it around was anything to go by. And then it was Christmas and Felix was eating Christmas dinner for the first time and seemed to think it was hilarious to ping brussel sprouts across the room and George was not helpful in encouraging him.

“Hypocrite,” Charlie laughed when Harry started to tell his son off.

Xxx

Malfoy was back, but Harry hadn’t heard anything and he kind of didn’t expect to because he imagined there was an epic power struggle going on at Malfoy Manor. Besides, he and Felix had settled into comfortable evenings where the baby…toddler, Harry supposed, would spend the evening drawing while Harry worked either creating new spells or trying to work out new ones that had been formed.  They’d often have the TV on in the background and sometimes Felix would wander over and climb on Harry to watch what he was doing.

“We’re good, aren’t we?” Harry asked his son one evening. “Just you and me?”

“Yes,” Felix said, leaning in a little sulkily. “Just want Daddy.”

Xxx

He got his own office in the ministry and no-one cared finally that he wasn’t wearing his auror robes and one kid said Spell Crafter Potter before the Boy who Lived and that was possibly the best thing Harry had ever heard. Ron got the lead on a high-profile case and Hermione pushed through a law about muggle children’s home life and the ministry’s interference.

“Because,” Hermione said when Harry asked her about it quietly, “adults should never be encouraged to look the other way when a child comes to Hogwarts half starved and with locks on his bedroom door. No matter the circumstances.”

He’d appreciated the sentiment and he wondered how many years it would take before he could talk to her about how much that meant to him.

Xxx

Malfoy came over in March and Felix was drawing…somewhere. On the walls which Harry couldn’t give a damn about because he lived in about six rooms and the rest, as far as he was concerned could be blown up or scribbled over by a two years old.

But Malfoy looked better, even as he stood, staring down at their son who stood staring back with a lifted chin and a crayon in hand, clearly daring Malfoy to say something.

Quietly, Harry watched, curious as to what Malfoy’s reaction would be. But, after a sigh, Malfoy bent down and studied Felix. “You’ve grown,” he said gently, looking at the drawing on the wall. “Are you allowed to do this?”

“Yes,” Felix said, a little argumentative in tone. “My walls. Daddy doesn’t like them.” 

Malfoy rolled his eyes and crouched. “Do you remember who I am?” he asked.

Felix nodded. “Daddy says you’re my father,” he said, swinging from side to side a little bit. “Rose has a mummy and Daddy and I have Daddy and you and Grandma Molly and Grandpa Arfa and-”

Malfoy nodded and reached to stroke a stray strand of hair out of Felix’s eyes. “What are you drawing?” he asked. 

“Drawing,” Felix told him after a bit as if Malfoy was the stupid one. And then turned back to it.

Xxx

“How’s Scorpius?” Harry asked. 

“Better,” Malfoy said emphatically. “So much better. There’s still a way to go, but…he’s getting there. Felix seems-”

“Independent,” Harry offered. “That’s Molly’s current euphemism. We used the term ‘spirited’ for a while.”

Malfoy actually snorted. “No-one will tell that boy what to do, will they?”

“I pity anyone who tries,” Harry said as he wrapped a hand around his mug of tea. “Which I guess will be the future you and me.”

Malfoy sighed at that, but said nothing.

Xxx

They (without speaking about it, thank god) fell into a strange sort of routine where Malfoy started to come over on some Saturdays and would spend the day with Felix in the house while Harry went out and felt that odd mix of sheer relief and continual certainty that he’d forgotten to take his son with him and remembered that he was still in his twenties and could have fun.

And then one day, a little boy with very pale hair and big grey eyes was with Malfoy and looked at Felix like he was the most amazing thing he’d ever seen. Felix, graciously, seemed to allow this worship and spent (as far as Harry could tell) the afternoon bossing him around.

They painted and played with stuffed toys that Malfoy enchanted to make noises which had both boys screeching with delight, though Scorpius had looked nervous about making such noises at first. 

It was enough to make Harry debate not going out. But then they were Malfoy’s sons, he supposed. The man should probably have some time with both of them and without feeling like he was being watched.

Xxx

It was hard to say when they started to fully relax around each other. But Malfoy stopped stepping through the floo about ten minutes after Harry came back and they’d have dinner together, the four of them every so often which by then Scorpius thought was fascinating and he’d sit quietly on Harry’s hip, watching everything go into the pot, or would sit in the kitchen counter, solemnly handing Harry ingredients. 

Harry called him chief taster and Scorpius looked so delighted that Harry had felt his heart melt towards the little boy.

And apparently, it was Malfoy that had been the artist, because he and Felix could sit quietly together and he would correct Felix’s strokes with a pencil or paint and it was the only time that Felix would sit quietly unless someone was reading to him or Harry was working on weaving magic.

“This okay?” Harry asked once as he let Scorpius go nuts with a cookie cutter.

Malfoy just nodded.

Xxx

“It’s Daddy’s birthday,” Scorpius whispered to Harry quietly one Saturday, just as he was about to leave.

Ah. “Did you get him a present?” Harry asked, crouching down to the three-year-old.

“Grand-mere did,” Scorpius said. “I don’t think he liked it that much.”

“I’ll have a hunt,” Harry promised him, mentally wondering if ‘Felix’ should have gotten Malfoy something too, though that could potentially open up the awkward fact that Malfoy hadn’t once acknowledged Felix’s birthdays.

He came back with some Turkish Delight (because he remembered Malfoy once scoffing that down at school) and a book about the principles of healing and a card and gave the book to Scorpius and the chocolate to Felix (who had to be told about ten times it wasn’t for him) and then let the boys scribble god knew what in the card…it almost looked like their names? And then let them give Malfoy the things after dinner.

The three of them sat, sharing the chocolate (which Felix promptly spat out in the height of class) and looking through the book as Malfoy quietly explained some of the pictures to the boys and pointed to their toes or hands which made both boys giggle.

“Potter?” Malfoy said as Scorpius and Felix sat on their bellies watching charmed stuffed toys play with each other.

“Mm?”

Malfoy kissed him. A peck. Brief but sweet.

And Harry kissed him back.

Xxx

“So you kissed and still haven’t spoken about it?” Hermione sighed as she sat with Hugh at the baby’s first birthday party. 

“We’re men,” Harry said absently, “We don’t talk. Fuck, Hermione, it’s me and Malfoy. We never talk about that stuff. We barely discussed the night that Felix was conceived.”

“Possibly because one of you has no memory of it,” Hermione muttered. “Harry…talk to him.”

Oh, what did she know?

Xxx

The week before Harry’s birthday, Scorpius fell asleep with Felix, the two of them curled together like puppies in a litter and Malfoy tentatively asked if he could stay.

“Is that…allowed? With the ministry?” Harry asked, an odd wave of nerves crashing over him because, shit he was going to have to explain something embarrassing.

“Yes,” Malfoy said, eyes narrowing. “One night away from the manor is acceptable.”

“Okay…So I haven’t slept in a bed for about…nine years?” Harry said, uncomfortable. “But uh…you can. Or you can sleep where I do, but-”

Malfoy frowned, “Where do you sleep?”

Xxx

Malfoy passed sleeping on the sofa and seemed…not that surprised by the information, but more annoyed with himself for not working it out. He suggested Harry try the bed with him.

Harry lasted an hour. Malfoy went three hours before his magic surged and rocked around from a nightmare that he seemed to think he’d gotten away with due to his own spells that might have fooled someone who hadn’t spent almost four years monitoring magic in its basic form.

They were both so fucked up.

Xxx

Turning twenty-seven was interesting. Ron got Harry so drunk that for all he knew he conceived another child a la Malfoy style and he woke up on the floor of Molly and Arthur’s house with Ron snoring next to him and Ginny on the armchair and Hermione glaring at a cup of coffee with her head in her hands and George was in the garden of all places and Neville in the toilet throwing up.

“You’re getting married in three days,” Harry mumbled to Ginny as they all dragged themselves to the table for breakfast where Molly seemed to be taking deep pleasure in making as many loud noises as she could.

“So?”

“Your tongue is blue,” Harry explained. “Hope it washes out by then.”

Xxx

Malfoy seemed…uncomfortable the following weekend and the reason for it became clear when Scorpius shyly offered Harry a little present and a hand-made card that Malfoy had definitely had a hand in.

The present was a research paper and Harry blinked at it in confusion, but interest. It wasn’t quite what he was doing, but the fields were linked…

That was until he realised he was cited in it a number of times and his work was highly praised within the paper.

He kissed Malfoy in the hallway, this kiss more heated and dangerous and wildly satisfying.

“I…” Malfoy pulled away. “I was going to…Felix said he’d already given you a present. So…” he looked down at his robes and withdrew a neatly packaged second gift. There were a pair of beautiful dragon hide gloves to protect his hands when experimenting but to allow the flow of magic somewhat so was to not interfere with what he was doing.

Wearing them, he pulled Malfoy in for a kiss and felt the man laugh against his lips.

Xxx

They went at glacial speed, even though every weekend they basically acted like a family. Malfoy could only spend one night away from the manor unless he petitioned and more often than not Sunday afternoon was inspection day so Malfoy and Scorpius would leave at about midday and Scorpius started to sulk about it. But Harry would go to sleep with Malfoy in the bed and get about an hour (once he got three and was stunned) before heading back downstairs. Malfoy never slept without a nightmare and took potions every night before sleep which was a worrying combination.

They kissed but Malfoy disliked having his clothes removed and would pull away mid-way through the process and Harry couldn’t quite find a way to ask.

Xxx

Ron bought Felix a baby broom. It hovered at maximum a foot off the ground which Felix quickly discovered just meant the nearest surface and would climb onto the table to sit on the broom and then shriek with laughter when he suddenly descended back down to the floor.

“Karma,” Hermione said when Harry nearly had a heart attack the first time it happened, “Is a bitch.”

Xxx

It infuriated Harry that Malfoy chose that weekend not to come and his sobbing son didn’t quite understand why Malfoy and Scorpius hadn’t been by and Harry didn’t have a reason to offer until the following weekend.

Malfoy’s back was a mess.

The boys played in the living room while Harry stared at Malfoy’s back that looked like cracked pea pods had burst; deep grooves could be seen and they were healing but no-where near as quick as they should have been. And, in between the mess, there were old scars, faded, white and twisting along the lines of strong shoulders and defined muscles. 

“The house elves are still loyal to him,” Malfoy said staring at nothing.

“You are an adult in the house-” Harry started.

“My son is not.”

Xxx

They argued. Malfoy accused Harry of wanting to play saviour and Harry accused him of wanting to be the martyr. But caught between pureblood law and the ministry’s terms, Malfoy was, essentially helpless.

It took them an hour to curl up together which was a miracle by Harry’s reckoning. “And the other scars?” he asked quietly, “are they from-”

“The war,” Malfoy replied absently. “A bit before and a bit after.”

“But-”

“Do you want to talk about why you can’t sleep in a bed or why every single cupboard in this house had its walls blown off?”

“Kreacher has a big mouth,” Harry muttered, shifting so he was staring at the walls, Malfoy still on his side and staring at Harry. “And no.”

“Then leave it alone.”

Xxx

Yeah, like that was gonna happen. But it was far too complicated for Harry to pretend he could understand, so he went to Hermione.

Who sighed.

“Harry,” she said quietly, “you remove the restrictions on Malfoy, you give power to Lucius. And the exact same happens across the board for all of the Death Eaters.”

“It’s not right,” Harry said, shaking his head. “We were all children. We were all used by the adults. And now our generations still suffers at their hands.”

“Harry…” Hermione leaned over, “My voice isn’t strong enough for this and while yours might be…you have to admit a certain amount of bias. I’m not sure…would people hear Harry Potter the saviour speaking or Harry the father of Malfoy’s son talking?”

He stormed out about five minutes later. Furious.

Xxx

“My relatives kept me in a cupboard.”

Malfoy, who had been lying on the sofa reading and letting Harry put the boys to bed, blinked and frowned at him. “Why?”

Fuck, he could do this. “Because my cousin needed a second bedroom and that was I was closer to the kitchen so I could basically be their house-elf.”

Malfoy continued to look blank and then something crossed his face and he looked out the door and then sucked in a breath, “I thought…I thought it was something to do with being on the run and then being in the dungeons.”

“Didn’t help,” Harry said and then sat on the arm of the chair opposite, playing with the cuff of his sleeve. “But uh…” he let out a breath and was surprised that he had absolutely no precedent for this conversation because he’d never ever had it with anyone. “I think…I’m pretty sure Dumbledore basically threatened them to keep me there or emotionally blackmailed. Either way…they kept me in the cupboard under the stairs and I’d cook and do the housework or gardening and my cousin had this game called Harry hunting which was…what it sounds like. And they would make sure I knew they thought I was a burden and a freak, but going the cupboard was safe? I think. And Hogwarts but then the tower was smashed in the battle so that seemed less safe. And we were in the tent and open spaces freak me out a bit now all the bedrooms here and the beds are huge. The sofa is…I dunno. It makes no sense.”

He couldn’t look up and there was a stir of panic because it wasn’t that bad, was it? Malfoy seemed to have been physically beaten while Harry had just been ignored. And it was stupid. Malfoy would probably just nod and-

A hand took the one that was fiddling with the sleeve and Malfoy was kneeling in front of him, grey eyes softer than Harry had ever seen them.

“Harry-”

“Think I’m at a limit,” Harry whispered. “For today.”

Malfoy said nothing but his hand slid to hold Harry’s wrist, thumb brushing over the back of his arm. Then his other hand reached for Harry’s chin and tilted his mouth gently to Malfoy’s lips.

“Plus,” Harry said as they pulled apart. “I beat you. To you know. Talking.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Come on, Harry. I have an idea.”

Xxx

That night, Malfoy spooned up behind him, one hand on one of Harry’s wrists and Harry felt completely surrounded by him which should have terrified him, but actually meant he fell asleep and didn’t wake up until the sun came streaming through the curtains and Malfoy was gently trying to sneak away.

“Malfoy?”

“Draco,” Malfoy chided. “We have a son together and we’ve been doing this for nearly five months. Draco.”

“This?” Harry asked, turning to him and smiling at the sight of Malfoy sleep-rumpled and looking deliciously touchable.

“Dating,” Malfoy said, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. “Being together.”

“Six months and you get a first name,” Harry said with a sniff, rolling back into the pillow. 

Malfoy laughed and gently tapped Harry’s arse as he left the room to deal with what Harry later found out was a frankly baffled Felix who was stalking living areas and looking under rugs for Harry.

Xxx

Christmas came on Saturday which was a relief and Harry spent his first Christmas in his own house with Malfoy…Draco… (merlin that was strange) Scorpius and Felix. The boys were in awe at the Christmas tree that Malfoy spelled and Malfoy capitulated to watching a Christmas film all the while muttering under his breath about muggle inconsistencies which Harry took offence at and then softened when he realised it wasn’t that different to Ron’s occasional ignorance when it came to muggles.

They roasted chestnuts and Malfoy charmed snow in the garden for them to play with and Harry watched them all from the kitchen as he made hot chocolate.

He would not lose this.

Xxx

He would have been a Slytherin, Harry thought with a frown as he sat down on a Thursday night and started to think it through. Albus Dumbledore had been able to sway the wizarding world, but even he had struggled.

In January, he offered to teach the basic of magical crafting theory to sixth and seventh years once a week and did some guided magical meditation with some of the younger students. He chatted to the teachers and asked about the division between purebloods and others, explored how Slytherin students were treated and mentioned off hand to one nervous looking little girl that Slytherin had been where the hat had wanted to sort him.

February, he asked to examine the wards around the properties of well-know death eaters’ families. Parkinson had a baby now and regarded him with deep suspicion, MacNair had left a son and daughter behind who looked exhausted and frail having being raised by their grandparents. The more he went and saw, the more he felt his heart sink.

By April, he realised with horror that he’d have to do Malfoy Manor as well. 

“So,” he said, nervously to Draco that Saturday night. “Um…I’ll see you on Monday.”

Draco had been drawing the boys absently and paused, fair eyebrows drawing together. “How are you planning on doing that?”

“I’m err…examining the bindings and wards that the ministry set up-”

Draco actually hissed and sat up, tossing the drawing away from him. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he snarled and Harry stepped back in shock. “No.”

“You can’t just say no,” Harry started to protest.

Draco stopped and then shook his head. “Yeah, true. Can’t say no to anything these days, can I?”

He left Scorpius behind when he went home and Harry spent the night on the sofa, fuming.

Xxx

“Harry,” Scorpius shrieked as Harry walked through the double doors the following day. He ducked down to scoop the boy up and smiled at the four-year-old. 

“Hello trouble,” he said gently, hitching Scorpius onto his hip. “How are you?”

“Is Felix here?” Scorpius asked, peering behind Harry.

“He’d better not be,” Draco said, standing on the stairs, arms folded and looking every inch the Lord of the Manor. “Make this quick,” he took a breath as if to say Harry’s name and then seemed to think it was just better to say nothing.

Xxx

Harry was working on the gates when Lucius found him.

“Ah,” Lucius purred, “How lovely to see what my son sees in his whore.”

Harry drew in a breath and turned, standing from where he’d been bent over. “Really?” he asked. “What do you possibly think you can gain from this?”

He refused to move when Lucius came close to him and it was deeply unsettling to pick out Draco’s features in Lucius’ face. “Does the offer extend to the entire Malfoy line?” Lucius asked. “I find myself terribly bored these days.”

“Lucius,” Harry said, feeling a strange smile appear on his face, “you’re not lusting over a half breed, are you?”

There was an annoyed twitch and Harry felt some small measure of relief because he was pretty sure that Lucius had just been trying to scare him. 

“I am not fifteen,” Harry said, stepping forward again. “And I am not helpless. And if I killed you right here, there isn’t a soul in the world who would lock me up for it. I’d probably get thank you gifts. So you consider that currently, the only thing keeping you alive and out of prison, is me.”

“And I suggest you consider that I am still Lord Malfoy and my family is mine to do with as I please,” Lucius sneered. “And that if you were going to kill me, if you could, you already would have.” He smiled as he stepped back, the picture of charm. “Do wish Draco a pleasant evening.”

As he retreated, Harry felt something…icy crash over him and for a moment, he curled his fist, half wishing that he was curling it around Lucius’s black heart and that he could-

His hand closed over wood and he stared down in horror at the elder wand that had, somehow, reconstituted in his hands.

Oh shit.

Xxx

Draco stood by the main fireplace, his back to the door when Harry came in from the grounds, still shaking with anger and worry. The room was all marble and ice white furnishings and looked so cold that Harry had a strange urge to drag paint around the whole room.

“What did you do?” Draco asked, not looking at him.

“Uh…” Harry stared down at the wand in his hand. “You might want to avoid your father-”

He trailed off when Draco turned around and stared, feeling something unhook in his chest at the sight of Draco’s cheek that had quite clearly been cut by Lucius’ heavy ring in what had to have been a vicious backhand. “Really?” Draco asked, venom dripping from the word.

The words fled from Harry’s lips and he stared in horror, stepping forward to reach out to Draco who take a deliberate step back, eyes furious. “I told you to leave it alone,” he hissed.

The wand in Harry’s hand shook, vibrating with his desperation to do something, anything. 

“Was it worth it?” Draco sneered.

No. Shaking his head, Harry looked down at the marble floor that was so polished he could almost meet his own gaze.

“Get out,” Draco demanded and walked past him without a second look.

Xxx

That night, Harry sat in his son’s room, staring at the child who hugged at his pillow and whose hair stuck up like a zebra’s mane. Lucius could live for years and if anything happened to Draco or Scorpius…

Jesus, if anything happened to Draco then Harry would be absolutely unable to protect Scorpius. And what? Was he just meant to let Lucius attack Draco whenever he wanted, knowing full well that Draco wouldn’t deflect it because it might just mean that he’d offer up Scorpius instead.

He leaned his head back against the wall and thought about Dumbledore. The man who had held on so tightly to his morals and failed so many. About Snape who had never had any morals and who had done what had to be done. At Draco who had pretty much had every way blocked to him because of his family and his up-bringing. 

Then he twirled the wand in his hand.

Xxx

Thankfully, Draco still turned up on Saturday, but Scorpius was subdued and even Felix seemed to pick up on what was happening (though his version of trying to cheer people up involved smuggling Scorpius chocolate and nobly giving away Hedhog for the day). Draco sat uncomfortably on the floor, suggested Harry go out and generally stilled seemed livid with him.

“Is Dad mad at you?” Felix asked quietly later on, holding on to Harry’s jeans and pushing into his leg. 

Sighing, Harry picked up his son and lifted him onto the counter top, looking into those wide green eyes and pressed his head to the boy’s. “Yes,” he said after a moment, pulling away. “But that’s because I deserve it.”

“Did you say sorry?”

Harry wasn’t sure it was that simple, if only because Draco was more than capable at not hearing things he didn’t want to listen to. “Sort of,” he said after a moment, turning back to the pasta sauce. “It’s complicated.”

“What did you do?”

“I…made someone angry. They took it out on…Dad.” Wait…when had Draco become Dad? Harry usually used father…

Draco called Lucius father…maybe that was an unwise way to refer to him…

They really did need to start having a few serious conversations.

“You shouldn’t make people angry,” Felix said and Harry resisted the urge to snort because he was sure the boy was re-using the exact same thing he himself had said to Felix three weeks ago. “What did you say?”

_I threatened to kill your grandfather for trying to intimidate me._

“I am not giving you ideas,” he said instead to his son and dipped a spoon into the sauce. “What do you think?”

Felix obediently opened his mouth, swallowed and popped his lips before peering at the red sauce. “Needs more green stuff,” he ordered.

“Basil,” Harry asked, reaching for a few leaves and letting Felix smell it.  His son shrugged and then nodded when he saw the torn-up leaves in the sauce, apparently judging the sauce by look rather than taste. Then his son held up his hands demandingly and Draco was there, lifting him up gingerly and placing him down on the floor. “Help your brother pack away,” Draco suggested before rising stiffly once more.

Harry said nothing, but turned down the sauce and waited. “For what it’s worth,” he said when he listened to silence for almost a few minutes. “I am sorry.”

Draco leaned his hip on the side, arms folded and Harry had an overwhelming urge to kiss him or hold him or just generally wipe away the troubled look on the man’s face. “Do not come over again,” he said after a moment. “You have no idea how to play this game.”

Slowly, Harry nodded and turned back to the sauce.

“Merlin, Potter…” Draco sighed, “You acting like a kicked crup is even more annoying.” He stepped forward a little closer. “What did you even say to him?”

God. “I…threatened to kill him?”

Draco let out a bark of laughter that sounded more like surprise than anything else. “Are you serious?” he asked, stunned. “Why?”

“He was trying to…I dunno. Make me cower or…” it seemed petty now, “take a step back.”

Bizarrely, Draco seemed to find that funny and pressed a head into Harry’s shoulder. “The next time you say anything about our son being independent or spirited or a contentious little shit, please remember this conversation.”

“Mm,” Harry said, reaching to taste the sauce then closed his eyes. “I thought you were gonna be so mad with me.”

“I was,” Draco admitted. “And believe me Potter, I have had a shit week because of you. But…” he pressed a kiss to Harry’s ear. “It was inevitable. It’s why I’d rather you just avoided the manor. You are who you are.”

“Do you need healing?” Harry asked quietly.

Draco pulled away and then took the spoon. “Needs more basil,” he decided.

Xxx

They went to bed together as they usually did, Draco spooning around Harry and it was nice to be in abed for the first time in two weeks, but Harry found he couldn’t drift off. 

“I would,” he said to the wall. “If you wanted me to, if you could accept it. I’d kill him.”

Draco’s arms tightened around him. “What did he say?”

“I don’t give a shit about what he said; he hurt you,” Harry whispered.

Draco sighed. “Even you can’t go around killing people. Especially you,” he said, pressing a kiss to Harry’s neck.

Especially you?

Rolling over, Harry turned and glared down at him. “Meaning?”

Draco groaned and moved as if to move onto his back and then seemed to think better of it. “The golden boy,” he said after a moment. 

“Like fuck that’s what you meant.”

Draco looked baffled. “What?”

Harry threw himself out of bed and started to pace, vaguely aware that Draco was slowly sitting up and watching him in the gloom of the night. 

“Harry,” Draco started to say. “I am tired. Can we do this another-”

“You know, don’t you,” Harry said, whirling around. “What I was?”

“A fucking idiot?” Draco snapped.

“Voldemort’s horocrux?”

Draco froze.

“That’s what you mean isn’t it? I had him in me for years and everyone’s just waiting for me to-”

“A horocrux?” Draco whispered.

“Don’t even. Your father knew-”

“Harry,” Draco said, getting out of bed with more speed than he probably should. “Harry, stop,” he hissed, catching hold of him. “I just meant that you were better than that,” he said, cupping Harry’s face. “You have so much further to fall.”

Oh. Staring at Draco’s grey eyes, Harry slumped forward.

“My father knew?” Draco asked quietly. 

“He…I dunno. He didn’t seem to surprised when I mentioned it. He must have worked it out.” Harry took a deep breath in. “Were you drugged? When we…when Felix was…had you been drugged by that point?”

Draco pulled away. “How does that have anything to do with-”

“I just…did I force you? Is this?”

“Harry,” Draco groaned. “Have you even slept this week?”

“Have you?”

“Yes. Because I took potions,” Draco sighed. “And you really are such an idiot. Do you even know what potion I was given?”

“No.”

“It…it enhances memories. So what followed was…is crystal clear. But to do that…it’s like writing on one side of parchment with pencil and then writing with ink on the other side. It overwhelms the others. Whatever we did…I’d say I was more of sound mind than you were.

Oh thank god.

He hadn’t been aware of how long he’d carried that tension around with him. “What did he do?” Harry asked.

“I told you, the house elves obey him,” Draco said slowly. “He lost interest after a while. I…” he sighed and then moved to undo the shirt he was wearing. His chest was firm and lightly scarred and Harry reached out for the silvered lines on the lower chest from his own spell back when they’d been teenagers. 

There were a few lines from a whip mark that had curled around Draco’s torso and Harry walked around Draco slowly frowning and the mess that was there. Again. The wounds from last time were healed but the scars were ropey underneath the latest beating and Draco’s muscles jerked and jolted as Harry watched.

“Cruciatus?”

“No,” Draco said. “Those are illegal. I mean, he possibly could get them to do it, but he’d hardly waste such a thing on me.”

“You’re…your muscles are flexing.”

Draco turned his head to nuzzle at Harry’s hair. “That’s you,” he said sounding a little amused. His nose touched Harry’s cheek and then his lips found Harry’s. “Anything else?”

“You are much more together than you should be,” Harry sighed into his lips. 

“I have you,” Draco whispered. “And as infuriatingly mule-headed as you are, you help.”

Xxx

Scorpius was in tears at the idea of going back to the manor which made Felix throw a temper tantrum at the fact he was leaving and Harry found himself sitting on the floor with his son, rocking him back and forth as Draco knelt in front of them, Scorpius snuggled into his neck having almost exhausted himself.

“Next week,” Draco was saying to Felix, sounding almost at the end of his own ability to stay calm. “We’ll see you next week.”

“No,” Felix sobbed. “Don’t want you to go,” he almost wailed and tried to fight Harry to attach himself to Draco instead. 

“Draco go,” Harry said softly. “I’ll calm him down.”

Draco let out a frustrated noise and then pressed his lips to Harry’s in a desperate, hungry kiss. Then he was gone, robes swirling and disappearing in a plume of flames.

Xxx

It was May when Harry walked into the ministry and asked to see Felix’s birth record and then promptly updated it to include Draco Malfoy on the damned thing.

“Forgot,” he said to the stunned looking witch at the desk.

Xxx

His next stop was to see Dalia at the Daily Prophet and to allow an exclusive about Felix’s conception and his relationship with Draco Malfoy. 

And to throw in one or two hints that the aurors had screwed Draco over royally.

Xxx

“Harry?” Hermione said over the floo. “What are you doing?”

He doused the flame. 

Xxx

_Hope the family tree’s updated._

_Harry Potter._

Xxx

The house-elf turned up when Harry was on his way to the ministry building. He had about three second’s warning before Avada Kadavra was thrown his way.

It hurt. This time he could feel the damn thing and it was agonisingly painful. 

Xxx

He didn’t know how long he floated, feeling the magic and re-working the strands and not really being all too aware of his body. All he knew was that when he suddenly emerged from it, he was gasping against the cobblestones and it was darker in the day than it had been when he’d had the spell fired at him and he felt like he was burning all over his body.

Under his fingers, the pavement cracked and splintered from the magic still rolling around in his body and the spell he’d placed around himself days before felt like it was going to split him into pieces. 

He stood, mind reaching out and found himself rising, no longer on the streets outside the ministry, but actually inside it where the trial was happening and Lucius Malfoy was paling dramatically at the sight of him standing up and almost shaking with power. 

“Return to sender,” Harry hissed and had a moment of pure triumph as horror dawned in the man’s eyes before the Avada Kedava crashed into him.

He left before anyone could say a word and stumbled into his bathroom at Grimmauld palace, throwing up and then crawling into the shower before he could think too much about what he’d done.

He needed to keep the scars though.

Just as Draco had.

Xxx

He didn’t know how long he spent in there, under the freezing water and feeling the magic burn under his skin still, rolling around like a hungry stalking tiger before the door burst open and Draco stood in the way, panting and staring down at him like he was a mirage.

“Harry-”

“Don’t,” Harry managed to croak. “It’s not settled yet. I might…” he trailed off and shuddered, though from the feeling of his magic or from the urge to cry, he had no idea.

Xxx

After three hours of it, Harry apparated to the Forbidden forest and sat down there, feeling the magic seep into the earth and spread, killing plants and the insect life until it stopped, a perfect circle about two meters wide around him and Harry finally felt his magic detangle from Lucius’ curse. 

In his hand, the resurrection stone was a cool weight against his skin and he stroked a thumb over it, again and again before he threw it into the forest once more.

Xxx

The second shower he took had nothing to do with the magic or the burns and everything to do with his own disgust at himself. He’d planned and plotted to kill a man, used every ounce of Slytherin cunning he had and he didn’t regret it. Couldn’t when it meant the man he loved could live in peace in his own house.

But he mourned something. The last vestige of innocence, his own moral pedestal, the start of a creeping understanding as to how Voldemort started, frustrated by the belief that he was abandoned and trapped in a state he’d simply been born into.

This time, he locked Draco out and tried to ignore Draco pounding on the door long into the night.

When he emerged, he stood, shoulders hunched and half-frozen despite the cobweb of burns all over his skin. Draco stood from where he’d been sat opposite, stiff and red-eyed.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered, looking away. “I know he was your father-”

“I don’t care,” Draco hissed. “I thought you were dead. Four days, Harry. Four fucking days and I…” he trailed off and simply sunk down, his head to Harry’s belly and his shoulders started to shake. “Never leave me again,” he whispered, voice trembling. “I thought-”

Harry bent over him, carding his fingers through the pale hair.

Xx

There was an investigation which disappeared into nothing once the Prophet looked back over Harry’s interview for something to expand upon during the radio silence and suddenly blew apart the way Draco’s case all those years had been handled. And then examined the multitude of notes on the way the children and grandchildren of Voldemort’s associates had been treated. Within days, there was horror and outrage as Hermione led the charge.

And Draco’s scars and Pansy’s forced marriage and the multitude of others were highlighted.

_Look at the grievances we caused. Look at the cause we gave._

_Look at how close we came to setting up a third war._

Xxx

“There’s an investigation,” Draco said tonelessly as Harry sat the breakfast table, Felix seemingly superglued to him these days. “They’ll flay us alive.”

There wasn’t much he could say to that. “Sorry.” And Draco said nothing in response.

Xxx

“You saw the file?” Draco asked the following week, back in their usual enforced routine and Harry hated it all ready because in his mind as soon as Lucius was gone it would all change, but it hadn’t and now he had to wait and be patient and let the ministry serve as it should because he was already pushing it when it came to becoming Voldemort or Dumbledore.

He nodded. “It’s sparse,” Harry said after a while. “I’ve read robberies with more detail.”

Draco stared at nothing and then closed his eyes. “There was…when we were seventeen, just after I’d failed to kill…” he swallowed and looked at Harry briefly, “I was tested again. Voldemort wished for me to be killed, but my mother protested and my father,” Draco snorted, “pointed out I was the last Malfoy and therefore of value. So there was…an earning if you will. I went on a raid with them. We found this…this muggleborn…she was…” Draco seemed to struggle for a moment. “Rebecca Smith. And she was in Slytherin when we arrived. We overlapped by a year. But she was a muggleborn who had polluted our house so we attacked and I…I tortured her, Harry. Unforgivables, pain. Humiliation. We were not to sully ourselves with impure breeding, but we could…assault using objects. It was degrading to the victim. My first day with them…when I was taken. It was her I was being punished for.

“Then it was for his crimes and…I recognised enough to link them. Torture that I had watched and done nothing to stop-”

“You were seventeen,” Harry whispered, taking his hand. “Who offered you protection, Draco? Who offered you a way out?”

“But I did it,” Draco said, looking him in the eye. “That punishment…I earned it.”

“Draco-”

“Vigilantism isn’t…ideal,” Draco said, walking away and heading towards the bed, “but it is…it’s done. Whether you agree with it or not Harry, I can accept it. And you are going to have to let it go if you want to do this properly, avoid another war, make true peace.”

“I can’t believe you are backing down from a fight,” Harry muttered, watching as Draco changed his shirt for a pyjama top. “They tortured you. They are not judge jury and executioner.”

“And neither are you,” Draco argued. “You know the dangers of trying to be.” He drew back the covers. 

“So…you’re happy. Just let bygones be bygones. We’ll see each other once a week-”

“You could come and live at the manor,” Draco pointed out.

“You could burn it down and rebuild it piece by piece,” Harry groused, weaving closer to the bed.

“Clearly you have no idea about pureblood properties,” Draco sighed, lying down and watching Harry. “Do you think you could get there? One day?”

“Only if you redecorate,” Harry mumbled feeling oddly like a wild bird that Draco was luring in. 

Draco just smiled and nodded.


	2. Draco

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco can accept many things in his life, can accept the punishments and the restrictions levelled against him, but he will not accept anything threatening his family or their happiness. Be it Harry's ghosts, his own indoctrination or the lingering remains of the Dark Lord's followers.

As a child, Draco had been told everything had a place and an order. A category, if you will. Rich and poor, pureborn and muggleborn. There were times to eat, to be polite, to impress. There were lessons to learn and secrets to guard and weaknesses were to be closely hidden. And, as a child, he’d thought the world revolved around his father and Lucius had certainly intended for it to be so.

The body was buried in the Malfoy graveyard and only himself and his mother were in attendance. Harry had offered but Draco wasn’t entirely sure that Harry wouldn’t also decide on the spur of the moment to simply incinerate the remains and use the flames to set light to a few shots.

Beside him, his mother stared at the coffin being lowered into the grave without expression, and he hadn’t managed to get from her how she felt about the entire ordeal. He barely managed to discuss feelings with her anyway, certainly not since the end of the war and the start of reparations. Academically, he knew the risks she’d taken for him, and part of him suspected that she’d almost drained herself dry looking after him.

He felt…nothing.

Xxx

Scorpius’ room would probably have sent Harry running for the hills…in fact most of the manor would with the overly large and grand bedrooms, the cool beauty and pristine whites. It was a stark contrast to the house that Harry kept where his youngest son simply grabbed a colouring pencil or pen and went from room to room, scrawling because Harry had claimed a few rooms as his own and then left the rest to rot or grow mould or, as he confessed one night, simply disappear.

Harry had asked the question sincerely, Draco remembered. “But they can, right? It’s a wizarding house. Some of those rooms will just go poof.”

The saviour of the wizarding world, ladies and gentlemen.

“Dad?” Scorpius whispered as Draco tucked him in, smoothing down the bed and covertly checking his son’s vitals and magic levels and everything that he needed to know to feel secure that Scorpius was thriving as he should be. “Do you think he’ll come back as a ghost?”

“Who?” Draco asked, trying to keep his voice calm and nonchalant.

“Grandfather.”

“No,” Draco said firmly. “There are no ghosts in the manor, Scorpius. You know that.”

His son nodded slowly, but at four years old, he still looked like that tiny baby that his mother had placed into his arms and the one that Draco had barely dared to breathe over.

“Can Felix come over then?” Scorpius asked quietly. “And Harry?”

Nothing would give him greater pleasure than to have his youngest son in the Malfoy ancestral home, just as he’d felt the fierce burn of pride the day Harry had put his name on Felix’s birth records and announced to their entire world that he was Felix’s father. His youngest could finally see his history, share the family’s knowledge-

But Harry…Harry was both so very strong and so worryingly fragile. He could unravel spells and capture Avada Kedavra and yet he couldn’t sleep in a bed without Draco present and would start cooking the minute something terrible happened and then try to feed Felix like some gut reflex which would be funny if Draco hadn’t put a few odd comments together about Harry’s childhood. And Harry had only been to the manor twice; once as a prisoner and once when Draco had given him stony silence and Harry had entered into some sort of pissing contest with Lucius.

“I’m not sure,” Draco said honestly to his son. “We’ll see.”

Xxx

We’ll see happened almost seven hours later when Harry tenuously arrived via the floor with Felix, sneered at the grand reception room, flopped down on a chaise lounge that was almost three hundred years old and groaned into the silk loudly while Felix had taken one look around the place, seen the white colours and had turned to Draco to demand a crayon, whatever that was.

Potters.

Lifting Felix into his arms in the hopes of protecting ancient and priceless artefacts from Harry 2.0, Draco resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “What?” he asked.

“Trial…” Harry sat up. “The discussion about my unauthorised use of a new spell begins tomorrow,” he complained. “It’s a waste of time.”

It was. “You did walk into a court room for your own murder and kill a man in front of witnesses.”

Harry waved that off with his normal aplomb, as if harnessing an Avada Kedavra and hurling it back was a typical Wednesday afternoon chore. “They want to check my magical levels and physiology,” he complained.

“You should have it checked.” Draco was almost certain that he wasn’t about to be suddenly killed whenever Harry sneezed, but quite honestly, no-one could say that life dating Harry Potter was anything like predictable. In his arms, Felix was twisting and turning and Draco sighed, almost used to the child’s refusal to stay still. “Must you?” he asked the boy.

Felix twisted once more, stared at Harry and then let out the world’s most frustrated noise, as if being told to stay put was tantamount to being handed a death sentence. “I want Scorpius,” he complained.

“I don’t want to go tomorrow,” Harry added.

Sweet Merlin help them all if he and Harry ever had another child.

Xxx

The first problem they came across was that it quite honestly was not worth it to have Harry cook. The house-elves, still unsettled from Lucius’ death and the horrified knowledge that they were now under the control of the man Lucius had ordered them all to frequently beat, almost started having fits when Harry wandered into the kitchen.

“You do it when you’re nervous,” Draco pointed out from his desk as he continued to check over the estate that the ministry had kindly allowed him to keep running when they had realised the potential financial destabilisation of withdrawing the Malfoy family businesses and jobs. Draco was almost sure that Harry helping at the trials all those years ago had only been possible because of the ministry’s realisation that they couldn’t get rid of the purebloods without having to scrap the entire economics of the wizarding world and start again.

“What?” Harry asked, pacing and examining an ivory sculpture in his hands.

“Cook.”

“If I dropped this, would you throw me out?”

Which was Harry speak for ‘I will not discuss that matter right now’. “It can be repaired,” Draco dismissed. “I do have to actually do this,” he added when Harry continued to pace and mutter under his breath. “People do rely on me to give them a wage.”

Xxx

The second problem was actually eating the food. Harry walked into the dining room holding Scorpius’ arm and stopped dead at the grand table, then turned to Draco with wide pleading eyes.

“We eat at one end,” Draco said as Felix let out a small gasp in his arms. Harry however, was staring at the silverware before he nodded very slowly.

Strange. His father had hosted the Dark Lord at this very table. They’d taken evening meals and once or twice it had been the stage for some macabre torture scene. But it had also hosted heroes over the ages and wizarding royalty and Draco was not about to let one bad period of the Malfoy family strip the entire manor of its contents.

The house-elves had arranged a feast fit for Kings and seemed desperate to impress. Felix stubbornly refused to sit on anyone’s lap and knelt up on a chair, eyes scanning the food and Draco wondered for a moment if his son had ever eaten anything that he hadn’t seen cooked directly in front of him. Scorpius, with far more manners, ate his dinner neatly and tidily while Harry picked at his food, oddly quiet.

Xxx

They decided to have the boys sleep together and Felix for once actually looked like the youngest when he was placed in Scorpius’s bed and snuggled up to his brother, big green eyes staring up at Draco.

There was something fluttering in his chest at having both his boys in his childhood room. He could raise both of them at the Manor, he could pass on the Malfoy heritage to these two perfect children and rest easy one day knowing the family was in safe hands. And perhaps, if he were absolutely honest with himself, there was a relief that Scorpius was the eldest, that the one without muggleborn ancestry would take the Manor and he hated that the thought even existed, but he supposed there were some fundamental facets of indoctrination that no-one could fully shake off.

But he’d helped. The next Lord Malfoy’s brother had a muggleborn grandmother and a muggleborn godmother and perhaps in the next generation he would see an heir…

His thoughts trailed off when he walked into his own room where he had left Harry and saw the man was still standing where Draco had left him.

“Harry?”

“I genuinely think Hermione and Ron’s first flat would fit in this,” Harry said slowly, nervously. “And that bed…orgies right? I mean that’s why that bed is so huge. You’ve had like twenty people in it.”

“My great grandfather had that bed made,” Draco said quietly, shuddering at the idea.

Harry grinned looking all the world like he was a thirteen-year-old giggling at the back of Binn’s classroom because the word ‘phallic’ had been used. Then something seemed to occur to him and he sobered quickly. “Is this…is this the master bedroom?”

Draco nodded and waited. Almost instantly, Harry paled and then almost dived for the door.

“It’s a room,” he said, catching the man by the arm. “I have given up so much because of him. I will not let him take every aspect of my family. This is where the head of the house sleeps.”

“You can sleep there as much as you like. I’m not-”

It was like reeling in a fish. Slowly, he encouraged Harry towards him until the man was almost in his arms and Draco could feel him quivering like a bird about to have its head snapped as an act of mercy. “Please,” Draco asked because if the past ten years had taught him anything it was how to swallow his pride and beg.

“I…” Harry rested his head on Draco’s collarbone and let out an exhausted sigh. Then, because he was Harry Potter, turned and headed towards the bed like he was about to go into battle with it, stripping off his shirt as he went.

Amused, Draco transfigured his own clothes into pyjamas and followed him. He felt his lips twitch when Harry, rather than sitting or climbing into the bed simply stepped onto it and stood, glaring down at the expanse. “Where do you usually sleep?” Harry asked suspiciously.

Ignoring him, Draco climbed in and shifted so that he was towards the left of the grand bed. Turning on his back, he opened his arms and looked expectantly at Harry.

They curled up together and Draco felt the nervousness he felt every night before he went to sleep quiet a little with Harry simply being there. There was something powerful about knowing that he was the only person that the Boy Who Lived could sleep with, the only person who could get that stubborn man in a bed.

When he woke to the nightmares, Harry was gone.

Xxx

That also was expected. If someone had asked Draco to describe Harry, he would have conjured a powerful wild magical beast to mind; awe inspiring and thrilling, but also utterly unable to be fully tamed.

Draco let him come and please as he wanted.

He deserved so much less than what he had.

Xxx

What surprised him was that Harry left Felix. And a note saying he’d pick up their demon spawn at the end of the day.

Felix genuinely seemed to think the epithet was a compliment.

His sons were vastly different, Draco thought as he watched them play. Felix had worked out that if he ran in his socks, he could skid across the grand hall and the ballroom and Scorpius had looked terrified of the idea until Draco had waved them on, remembering his own desperation to do that exact same thing as a child.

Felix, at first glance, looked like the oldest. He was more confident, demanding, he looked stockier and bigger than his fey brother. But he was absolutely Harry’s son and was an idealistic little soul. The world had been so good to him as a Potter and Draco would watch, half terrified as to how he would react to being treated now that everyone knew he was Draco’s son too. Like Harry, he could be fragile. A harsh word spoken in a callous tone and Felix would back away looking lost. He had no concept of how to hide himself away and wore everything he felt on his face. Spoilt, probably, but Harry had endured a childhood of depravation and an adolescence of war and responsibility far too heavy for a grown adult let alone a teenager. Draco certainly wasn’t about to curb Harry’s parenting.

Scorpius on the other hand still looked as if a blast of wind might knock him over. He was thinner and pale compared to Felix’s golden appearance. The wisp of silver by his side, but Draco’s heir was strong. A fighter. He’d fought when he’d been too small to come into this world and when his lungs had to be magically pumped in order to grow so he could draw breath. His little heart had fluttered too often and then could pause for too long and his feet had needed to be fully regrown. His immune system had been practically non-existent and Draco had spent so many nights convinced he would infect Scorpius and be the one to kill his child. But his boy had survived, had fought and battled and now cautiously stepped up next to his brother, cast unsure grey eyes over at Draco and hesitantly did a little skid.

He knew how to hide himself, how to monitor his expression even at four. Living with Lucius would teach anyone that and Draco wasn’t entirely sure how much of Lucius’s punishments and threats he’d managed to keep from the boy.

The idea that Lucius was dead still didn’t seem real.

Felix skidded over to him, cheeks flushed and eyes delighted. “Come play,” he asked, holding out a hand and, strangely, all Draco could see was Harry at eleven on a boat to Hogwarts looking awed and longing all at once.

Cupping the child’s face, he smiled down at him. “I have to work,” he said gently and Felix looked confused because the only people he had probably ever seen work were Harry and the Weasley misfits which consisted of people in a joke shop or probably just talking with Harry about auror or ministry business. “But you can keep playing.”

“Where’s daddy?”

“He’s at work.” Draco didn’t have a clue where Harry was, but that seemed like a safe bet. He’d be going to the trial later on in the day and it rankled slightly that he hadn’t had a chance to wish Harry luck or soothe his nerves.

Or remind him not to threaten to kill more people just because they annoyed him.

Felix groused a little and then wanted to be held which Draco allowed because the boy fell asleep quite easily when he was held. Scorpius came creeping in and Draco pulled a chair over to place his sleeping youngest in. His eldest, he sat in his lap and talked through a little of what he was doing.

Scorpius didn’t fall asleep.

Xxx

Harry stayed away until Draco was jolted awake at night, the moon streaming in through the curtains and silhouetting the man as he stood by the window, staring out at the manor’s beautiful grounds. 

“How did it go?” Draco asked quietly, sitting up in bed.

Harry shrugged. “They were satisfied that it wasn’t first degree murder but rather an accident.”

Accident? Dear Merlin, the people that ran their world were idiots. “Will they speak to me?”

Harry shook his head. “Case closed.”

Good. “So how long had you planned it for?” Draco asked, curious now that he could ask the question without fearing he may have to repeat the answer at a later date. 

“Mm, generally after the first time I saw your back and realised if you died, I couldn’t protect Scorpius.”

Something warmed inside Draco and he stood, padding over to Harry quietly. “And specifically?”

“After I came here,” Harry said and that wasn’t unexpected. 

“How?” Draco asked, wrapping his arms around the man. “How did you-”

“I baited him-”

“Harry,” Draco scolded gently, “I’m aware of what you did. And I’m aware that you knew how to get that reaction. I’m talking about the spell. How did you…you realise you’ve practically countered an Unforgivable. The one that cannot be stopped.”

Harry shrugged. “Not sure about that. Part of the reason it worked was because I still have the hallows…” he groaned and tipped his head back to Draco’s shoulder, staring at the ceiling. “I threw one away, broke the other and they won’t leave me alone. Do you have any idea how often I’ve snapped that bloody wand?”

What? Draco ducked his head to Harry’s exposed shoulder and hummed against the clean, sweet skin there. “The hallows. You have all three?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Against my will.”

The master of death. Draco didn’t know if it made him hard or terrified. Probably both, he’d never had a good boundary between the two when it came to Harry. “And the rebound?”

That had Harry launch into an excited rendition of what Draco came to realise had been mostly guess work, Potter luck and, horrifyingly, him battling not to stay alive, but to keep the curse inside himself which had made it more likely he would simply die.

“So,” Draco said, feeling the lust become dead-weight stone. “You were cleared today because to plan to commit this murder would have been suicidal?”

Harry shrugged again. Then: “What did you have for dinner? Are there leftovers?”

No.

Whirling Harry around, Draco stared at him. “You didn’t know it would work,” he hissed. “You had no idea that you would survive it.”

“I was eight-five percent sure-”

“Not fucking good enough,” Draco hissed. “What if you had died? What if they hadn’t found evidence to convict him? Because they were looking and there was nothing; my father knows how to cover his tracks. Felix would have ended up under my roof, my father’s roof, at his mercy. And we would have been hated for what had happened-”

“I took a risk, it paid off.”

“How can you so flippant with your own life?”

The curse came from no-where and Draco found himself slammed backwards and staring at the spot that Harry had been stood at, at the spot that he shouldn’t have been able to apparate from.

Interesting.

Xxx

The next morning, Harry was downstairs with the boys when Draco dragged himself out of bed, the nightmares particularly difficult to deal with that night. They were outside and Harry was racing with them across the side lawn which separated the herbs for cooking from the roses. Draco stood and watched as Harry let the boys find ways to handicap him with their scarves and snorted in amusement at Harry deliberately falling and then tugging the boy’s down to tickle them, completely missing the point of the race.

He loved him so much.

The thought didn’t shock him. It wasn’t the first time he had thought it, but perhaps the first time he could almost enjoy the feeling without fear or caution. Harry could fill any place with joy and life and it was a talent that Draco craved with everything he had.

It took a minute or so for him to be aware of his mother standing by his side, watching the spectacle too.

“He interacts well with Scorpius,” his mother said quietly. 

_“…the first time I saw your back and realised if you died, I couldn’t protect Scorpius.”_ I 

Draco nodded. “That’s because he’s still a child himself,” he said, trying to keep the scorn in his voice.

Xxx

Harry took Felix back to Grimmauld place for a few days which was both a relief and a cause of sorrow. But all seemed normal of Saturday when Draco and Scorpius arrived by floo and the place was its usual borrow of noise and mess and strange things suddenly popping up. Harry was cooking and it looked complex so Draco took that hint. 

That night, once the boys were asleep, Draco tried again. “Harry, we need to discuss last night-”

“Do you think we’ll ever have sex?”

Whoever had encouraged Harry to seek out his Slytherin side was a bloody menace. Folding his arms, Draco frowned. “Are we negotiating? I’ll answer yours once you answer mine.”

“Or, you answer mine and then-”

“Harry.”

The man slumped. “I don’t…what is there to talk about?”

“We are not at war,” Draco said, stepping forward, “you are no longer Dumbledore’s sacrificial pawn. Stop acting as if you are.” He took one of Harry’s hands. “You are worth so much more than that. As a father, as a friend, as a leader-” He broke off when Harry snorted. “You could be,” Draco said softly. 

Harry stared at his hand in Draco’s. “I couldn’t…I can’t just sit and watch. I’m not you, I don’t have the patience for whatever long game you had in mind.”

“I know. And I know why you couldn’t discuss it with me, but…” he stroked his thumb over the back of Harry’s hand. “You are precious to me. I dislike…you should treat yourself with more care and worth.”

He wouldn’t. Draco wasn’t a fool, but Harry squirmed at the words and nodded, as if to do anything for the conversation to be over.

“And,” Draco said, his own nerves rising, “as for sex…I may have an idea.”

Xxx

The next few weeks were what Draco would come to refer to as their trial period.

Ideally, he would have been more succinct and calm about explaining his issues to Harry and Harry might actually have listened carefully rather than zeroing in on one thing and then going at broom speed about it all.

He explained it was about control. He had so little control and those days when he had been captured had experienced such a complete destruction of his own personal control that the idea of giving it up was…unpleasant.

Harry agreed to be bound and Draco didn’t feel the usual worry that he was forcing someone because if Harry didn’t want to be there then Draco was likely to be shoved across the room and no-one would call Harry passive. But Harry hesitantly tried Sir and that had made Draco wince because of Snape and before he could explain to the idiot that he simply wanted Harry bound so that there were no unexpected touches, Harry said master and Draco had stormed off in disgust.

The following attempt had seen Harry offer to be gagged which Draco had plain refused and then he’d attempted for what had to be third time to explain that all he wanted was for Harry to simply not touch him yet.

Harry had stretched, naked and gorgeous and then rolled his eyes. “But…so I just lay here?”

“Just be you but with your hands bound.”

Draco had never met anyone who could tap their toes the same way that most could drum their fingers. “Are you gonna…use things?” Harry asked, peering around.

“Things?”

“Like…is this a pain thing?”

Draco groaned into the idiot’s stomach. 

Xxx

“We’ve had sex,” Draco said, sitting up against the bed and amused that Harry was still naked and still had his hands bound to the headboard. The man had shaken his head when Draco had offered to untie him and Draco suspected that the part of Harry that could sleep when Draco practically wrapped him up like a present was probably enjoying this too.

“Very drunk sex,” Harry replied absently. “Against a wall.”

A wall? Draco turned, interested. “Tell me.”

“We…kissed. We discussed briefly why we shouldn’t while undoing our trousers. You sucked me off then I bent over one of those half wall things…do they exist for any other reason than to have sex over?”

“Aesthetic value,” Draco replied absently. “Did you enjoy it?”

“Blow job was nice,” Harry said, turning a little. “Wall was a bit scratchy, but yeah.”

What a glowing review and how…crass. That was how their son, their beautiful boy had been conceived; over a wall at the Zabini estate during ‘scratchy’ sex.

Frowning, Draco lowered his lips to Harry’s. They’d done this so many times now, that it barely took effort to know how to make Harry gasp and moan. “I’d redo it,” Draco whispered against the man’s ear, nipping at it. “You should have had a bed. You should have been screaming my name.”

Harry stared at him with big wide eyes, looking unsure, but curious. Tracing the lines of him with his tongue, Draco smiled against the golden skin as Harry started to pant and whine and twist under Draco’s hands. Giving him pleasure was like a balm against Draco’s soul, relief that he could do good things rather than relive the crimes over and over again.

Harry could make him good.

It was a dangerous thought, one that Draco needed to temper to avoid destroying their relationship, but Harry was so good, pure and sweet when you scratched the surface of the wounded child that lashed out whenever he was faced with something that didn’t make sense to him. 

“I can look after you,” Draco whispered to the man as Harry shook and gasped into Draco’s neck as Draco’s hand worked carefully, stroking Harry to completion but guiding it so that the orgasm built beautifully. “Trust me.”

“I do,” Harry whispered back. “Merlin help me, I do.”

Xxx

Harry had been thoroughly put out that Draco wouldn’t accept reciprocation and then had looked thoughtful, clearly deciding to plot something.

By that point, they were living in two houses, Harry still vanished at odd hours of the day and night, but Draco found that Felix was staying at the manor more and more. 

Watching Felix interact with Draco’s mother was interesting. His mother loved the boy, he was sure of it, it had been the sole stand that she’d made after the war, that he go and see the child he’d unknowingly conceived with his school nemesis. She’d asked for pictures and had wanted stories, but now that he was here, she seemed fascinated with the loud little boy, but also deeply nervous.

So when Felix’s birthday came around it was difficult for so many reasons.

Harry took Felix to the Weasley’s as he had every year and invited Scorpius and Draco spend days trying to work out if he could persuade Harry to invite the Weasley’s to the manor but Harry had said quietly that Hermione would never allow Rose near the place and Ron would never let Hermione hear it.

It took everything that Draco had that day to send his eldest off to that birthday party and not go himself. And he sat with his mother, staring out at the grounds and feeling her slowly guide his head to her lap because his eldest was out in the world for the first time and his baby was, once again, not spending his birthday with Draco.

Xxx

Life skipped on. Felix was too ambitious and broke his first bone climbing a tree that he’d been told numerous times to avoid. Draco soothed his tears, mended the bone and he was trying to balance on the balcony rails when Harry came home and for the first time yelled at their son. Felix’s little face crumpled in confusion and he’d spent the night sulking in Draco’s arms.

Harry and Felix went to visit his parents’ grave at Halloween which was a tradition Harry had started when Felix was little more than a month old and Draco left them to it. Harry had Teddy over a few times to the manor and Draco wished he were a better person and didn’t keep half an eye on the boy’s teeth. The child seemed perfectly charming for someone of muddled heritage and he felt another ideal quake and waver, like his father’s grip on him was slowly crumbling to ash.

He made a big production at Christmas, taking his sons to the grounds to choose the Christmas trees and then letting them decorate one in their room and he let Harry have full artistic control in their little sitting room that he’d created in the first of many alterations to keep his promise to Harry. The boys used every charmed decoration they could while Harry eyed his tree up for almost two weeks before he slowly started to decorate it. It was such a mishmash that Draco would stare at the thing and then walk away before he was overcome with the urge to fix it. Felix solved the unspoken question by pointing out that this was from Auntie Hermione’s tree and that was Grandma Weasley’s decoration and this was that star they’d found in storage at Harry’s parent’s house. And this was from Uncle Sirius’ bedroom and so on.

Harry stole items from Draco’s tree in the main hall too. 

It made him smile.

Xxx

Sex progressed as it did and by new years, Draco stared down at the man underneath him who tilted his face to the moonlight and Draco quite honestly couldn’t remember seeing anything so beautiful as he entered Harry.

“You okay,” he asked, tilting Harry’s head gently back to him. The words ‘look at me’ wanted to pour from his lips, but Harry had violently reacted to that the few times Draco had asked and Draco couldn’t prise the reason why from Harry.

Yet.

Harry nodded and shifted making Draco want to groan and thrust, but he kept still and silent, waiting for the man he loved to respond. “What are you thinking?” Draco asked when Harry remained…distant.

“This is…I…it’s tricky,” Harry confessed and Draco moved to pull out then nearly rolled his eyes when Harry’s strong legs octopused around him. “You can go harder,” Harry offered.

“I don’t want to,” Draco said quietly. “I don’t want to be rough or hard or anything else that you’ve suggested a thousand times. Why do you think I do?”

“You did at the party.”

“I didn’t love you at the party.”

In hindsight, that was always going to be a mistake. Soft words, gentle caresses, whispers of love. Harry apparated on the spot.

Xxx

He came back twenty minutes later, moving quietly to sit at the foot of the bed. Draco stared out across the bed where he lay and to the open balcony doors that let in the freezing wind and bitter snow.

“Sorry,” Harry said awkwardly. “That was…that was really stupid of me.”

Draco said nothing.

“I…love used to be…a um…like a myth? Or Hermione stepping in front of me and Ron taking a curse. Or a woman screaming for her child to be spared and a man telling his family to run. Love…I only ever saw it when there was a threat or violence or decisions to be made that would end in death. Even Snape…” Harry trailed off awkwardly and Draco turned, a little baffled by what Snape had to do with any of that. “It’s not…it wasn’t silk sheets and someone waiting and giving. Or decorating a house or…” Harry’s voice started to tremble. “I was…I was literally born for death, Malfoy. I wasn’t made for this.

“And it’s shit because, between us, you need…I should be more supportive of you. You were assaulted and your father hurt you and you once had to live with Voldemort and that psycho-bitch aunt of yours and I don’t get how…I am so jealous of you and your ability to at least look like you’re not a complete freak.”

He’d heard the word before and scowled at the use of it from Harry’s lips. Gently moving forward, he stopped until he was knelt opposite Harry who was still sitting at the edge of the bed and staring at his lap.

“I can’t give you that,” Draco whispered. “I can’t be rough or quick. I can’t use you for my own pleasure. I can’t give you a quick relief. And even if I could, I wouldn’t want to. I want to give you…pastries and sweets. Dinners and wine that makes you ask me if there’s whatever a skittle is in it. I want to give you armchairs to curl up in and books to read and gloves and warm fires. And I want to take back that first time and replace that callous lust with softness and pleasure.” He touched Harry’s jaw gently. “You are the greatest treasure I have.”

He could almost feel the way that Harry vibrated with fear. 

“Come to bed,” Draco encouraged. “Just to sleep.”

Harry did. But he was gone by the time Draco woke from his nightmare.          

Xxx

“Why are you here?” Ginny Thomas asked Draco when he walked into the Quidditch training pitch and asked to see her.

“I… I would like to discuss Harry. Your coach said the session was over.”

The woman glared at him. “What about Harry?”

In the end, it took Draco being sat in the Weasleys’ house with Granger having sent her two children off to their grandparents and the three of them sitting at a table and glaring at him.

“I would…what do you know of Harry’s childhood?”

Granger sat back and glanced at her husband. They seemed to have some wordless exchange before Weasley groaned and shook his head. “I cannot believe we’re about to have this discussion,” he complained. “How come you want it?”

“I told Harry I loved him and he ran. He will not discuss anything other than summarising events without emotion. He is careless with his own life and health and…” he hesitated and glanced at Thomas. “I…he wishes to only engage in sex that is…rough? Perhaps not quite the right word for it but-”

Thomas nodded. “Lust rather than love,” she said after a moment. “He wants release and passion, but not the closeness.”

Draco inclined his head and then amused himself by looking at how red Weasley had become. “You wished to be here,” he reminded the man.

Granger had stood and opened a cupboard, her wand waving to undo wards. “Here,” she said placing a pensive in front of Draco and selecting a vial.

“Harry’s memories?”

Granger snorted, “As if. No, this is..i collected this for the day…in case Harry ever gets so out of control that we need a trial.”

What?

Weasley, surprisingly, was the one who softened. “We did it when Harry was being examined for Malfoy’s death. And then kept it because if anyone goes after you and those boys, Harry will…” Weasley shuddered. “And also, in case Harry ever wants to discuss these things. But we all know that he won’t. So…” Weasley gestured. 

“Into the breach,” Granger murmured.

Xxx

He was in a muggle house. Small and boring and even the sight of it was enough to make Draco want to leave, his magic recoiling at such a sanitised, hideous dearth of magic. He made his way across a floor that was made of cheap imitation wood and stepped into a somewhat larger room that was both kitchen and dining room.

There was a little boy on a stool, cooking. Dark hair sprouting wildly and Draco would guess he was about nine years old. He stepped close, hand reaching out and then ghosting through Harry as he’d known it would. 

The boy was cooking breakfast, Draco would assume and he was barely paying attention so it had to have been something he had done often. And it was strange, hearing it and seeing it were two different things. Unsupervised, the child was alone in the kitchen and Draco slowly realised that it was because they were getting dressed and ready upstairs.

The man who came into the kitchen first was huge and red faced, sweating already and Draco took a step inbetween the child and the man, knowing ultimately it was useless. Harry’s little shoulders tensed and he seemed to let go of whatever daydreams he was having, becoming focused on the omelette and the bacon once more.

There was no greeting. The man picked up the paper and sat down. His wife, a stick thin, sharp looking woman joined him, also without comment to the child and then the cousin who was greeted with love and interest and Harry watched and then looked away, serving up the breakfast. Three plates.

Draco leaned against the counter as the boy served his relatives, running back and forth with tea and toast and butter and there was a gruff comment that the butter should have been on the table and-

He saw it. That moment when a comment was directed at Harry and his little face almost lit up, despite the gruff words.

“You could get it yourself.”

Draco closed his eyes as Vernon Dursley leapt to the bait and yelled at the boy, towering over him and he could see the baffled confusion on Harry’s little face; delight in finally having some attention warring with fear of what he had released. Heard the list of chores that the man gave Harry and the promise of consequences if they weren’t done.

They left him alone in the house. And Draco watched as Harry self-sabotaged everything he could to get attention. The list wasn’t quite done right, he didn’t eat the left overs. He constantly battled within himself to avoid getting into trouble and engineering exactly that so that his relatives would say something to him. 

Anything.

And when Dursley came in at the end of the day and roared at Harry, the confusion showed on both their faces. Dursley too thick to understand why Harry was acting in such a way and possibly too scared of Harry’s potential magic to think through any other method of raising the boy than trying to tire him out and keep him at arm’s length.

Draco was a slytherin. It was personal pride to work out what made people tick and what motivated them. Harry Potter had been a baffling mystery because he didn’t conform to any standard patterns, had never had a secure enough childhood to start plotting out those patterns properly.

And he had never felt such blinding, impotent anger as he did when Dursley, at a loss it seemed, reached out and backhanded Harry into a wall, then half dragged the boy to the cupboard.

Xxx

There were other moments. Violence was rare, but Harry spoiling for a fight was not. And the more Draco watched, the more he realised Harry was completely wrong in his assessment that the cupboard had become a place of safety.

It had been a place of isolation and the sofa wasn’t. Harry wouldn’t miss out when he slept on the sofa. His confusion and reticence to sleep in the same bed as Draco was more likely born from Harry refusing to trust the contact would be consistent and testing Draco to see if he would come after Harry.

Xxx

The next sat of memories were from Granger herself, there was no doubt. Them as children and Harry looking at her and Weasley as if they’d hung the moon and then throwing himself head first into danger. Of whispered conversations as three eleven-year-old children were manipulated to believe that they alone could save the wizarding world.

It went on. Weasley’s memories of Lockheart, Ginny Thomas’ memories of the Chamber of Secrets. Granger and the godfather saga. By that point, Harry, Weasley and Granger had all been conditioned to protect and serve first and then look after each other. And all piled upon the shoulders of a little boy who associated attention and love with violence and death.

Xxx

Draco greeted Harry whenever he entered a room and noticed that Harry always did the same with Scorpius and Felix. He talked to Harry when he cooked rather than leave Harry to it as he previously had, believing that Harry wanted to be alone when he cooked. 

When Harry left the bed at night, Draco started to go and find him downstairs or even in another house. Once he found Harry at his parents’ grave which had been uncomfortable in all sorts of ways. And when Harry said he was unsure how he felt, Draco offered his own confusion between two emotions and saw Harry blink and consider he was allowed to feel more than one emotion at once.

It was slow going and not always successful. Scorpius turned five, Draco turned twenty eight and Harry followed a month after. 

He and Harry both lay in bed and Harry’s eyes fixed upon an old watch as the hands slowly ticked to midnight on the 30th July.

“Happy Birthday,” Draco whispered in his ear.

Harry turned, burrowing into Draco the way their son did sometimes and Draco gathered him close.

“You won’t leave,” Harry whispered, so quiet that it almost might have just been breath ghosting over Draco’s heart.

Draco shook his head. “No.”

It wasn’t the first or the second time they had sex, but it was the first time Harry started to accept that sometimes, they could be gentle and quiet and whisper if not words of love, then at least words of trust.

And afterwards, Draco managed to let Harry skim his hands over Draco’s back, heart pounding.

Xxx

In August it was ten years since the trials and they were reviewed and Draco found himself in the unenviable position of meeting with his former…colleagues again, such as they were as they discussed the potential new terms.

“But Potter is fucking Malfoy,” Carrow sneered, all nineteen and full of bluster. “We can get what we want.”

Draco raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing. Opposite him, his mother was equally impassive. Selwyn’s younger brother watched them both very carefully.

“Lestrange hasn’t helped,” Theodore said quietly. “His escape puts pressure on the ministry to clamp down on us.”

Gregory folded his arms. “I want defensive charms allowed again,” he said quietly. “My son…I should be able to protect him.”

“They won’t let that happen,” Pansy said. She’d refused to sit and kept a little away from them all. “They’d have us suffer for our crimes. If Draco is still under them-”

Theodore glanced over at Draco. Then leaned forward. “We are pureblood’” he said firmly. “And the ministry wants us to feel shame, to fade away. Our culture, our heritage, our way of life. Surely, you want to protect that.”

Draco nodded slowly. 

Carrow smiled. “Then we need to be released. We can show them-”

Draco held up a hand. “I will protect it,” he said firmly. “But there will be no showing or bowing and displays of power. Our children will inherit our estates and be accepted into wizarding society-”

“They should bow to us,” Carrow said on his feet. “We have a millennia of knowledge, of magic. Those muggleborns come to us and tell us what to think, how to feel? Us, who can trace our heritage back to the days of merlin and beyond? I will not be ashamed of that-”

“We killed.”

“So did they.”

Draco sighed.

“They won,” Pansy said stonily.

Draco stood. “We would not have showed such mercy,” he said, trying not to imagine it, “and the Dark lord would not have shown such mercy.”

“Then they are weak,” Carrow said, apparently too young and too impetuous to see how stupid he was being.

Draco slammed out before he could say something he’d regret.

Xxx

“What’s a Deaf -Eater?” Felix asked him a few days later.

Draco paused and looked out the window. Harry and Scorpius were gardening of all things and Draco was still working out how to manage Harry with that. Turning, he stroked a hand down Felix’s hair. “Where did you hear that?” 

“At Rose’s house,” Felix answered, taking the hair stroking as an invitation to clamber into Draco’s lap. “I like eating. Can I be one.”

“No,” Draco said, a little too sharply because Felix blinked in hurt. “No…they…” he frowned, unsure of how to explain it to a boy who would be five next week. “They hurt people,” he said slowly.

“But…I thought,” Felix tilted his head. “Are you one?”

“I was,” Draco said and sweet merlin if he’d known what the shame of having to explain this to his son would feel like, he’d have taken the curses instead. “I…” he frowned, trying to work out what to say. “A very bad man came to my house and convinced my father that we should fight for him. And…for a while, I did.”

Felix seemed to think about this. “But then you stopped?” he asked, sounding a little unsure.

“Yes. And then I fell in love with your father and there was you and now I would never join that man again. I’d fight him.”

“Is the bad man still out there?”

“No. Your Dad…he saved us all. That’s one of the reasons everyone wants him to help them.”

Felix seemed to be satisfied by that, but he soon wriggled off Draco’s lap and went searching for Harry and it seemed as if he avoided Draco for the rest of the evening.

That hurt.

Xxx

Felix’s birthday came and went and the negotiations started in earnest and when he’d become the unofficial leader, Draco had no idea. But it felt good to be in control, to have some degree of power again.

 Harry went quiet in October and Draco was honest with him and said that he needed to focus on the negotiations and he’d listen to Harry if he wanted to speak, but he couldn’t give Harry his full attention which Harry sulked at and then two days later apologised for and nodded in understanding. 

In November, Draco killed Runcorn.

He’d overlooked him in the meetings; Runcorn had always curried favour with Draco’s father so, in his mind, Runcorn was nothing more than a minion. But by November it was clear someone was whispering into pureblood’s ears. Encouraging them to plot and plan and Runcorn overplayed his hand one night when he asked Draco how the mongrel compared to the thoroughbred both in terms of lovers and sons.

In the middle of a meeting, Draco cut the man’s throat where he stood, relatively certain he’d found the culprit for the plots.

There was absolute silence.

“I will make this exceedingly clear,” Draco said as he cleaned the knife. “Harry Potter is not part of some elongated plot. And, despite the rumours, Felix truly is my child. If I hear one word about a plot to kill those with mixed blood you will be wishing the aurors had you in Azkaban. And I speak as the only one in this room who was trained by the Dark Lord himself. Is that clear?”

There were some nods and wide eyes and Carrow looked sick because, despite his blustering, he was still a boy and had no concept of what war was truly like. 

“Bury him,” Draco suggested. “Or tell. Entirely up to you.”

No-one told. The official story was that Runcorn had given up magic and run off to life with the muggles he despised.

When Harry heard it, he eyed Draco up suspiciously. “And you say I take chances,” he muttered.

Xxx

Negotiations went faster with Runcorn out of the way and most of the members of the group clear on the fact that there would not be a third rising and there was no grand Malfoy scheme at work. Draco found himself deeply uninterested in the terms once he has secured that the next generation would be freed of the conditions he lived with. He had Harry, he had the manor and he had his children. Harry’s old charm around Felix was offered up in lieu of allowing them to cast battle spells and some agreed to greater monitoring in exchange for more freedoms.

“And you?” Shacklebolt asked quietly. “You know you could ask for more than they have?”

Draco smiled and Shacklebolt sat back looking oddly disappointed. “I want magical freedom,” Draco said simply. “To cast as I please.”

“I cannot grant that-”

“To defend my son and the man I love. I would like the ability to cast on purebloods.”

Shacklebolt froze.

“And I would like that to remain quiet. You want to avoid a war, I can help you. But they will be governed by me. Any interference from you will be seen as interference from muggleborns who do not respect our culture.”

“I could be creating a second dark lord,” Shacklebolt said quietly.

“I had to explain to my youngest son that I was a Death Eater. And one day I will have to explain to him that I wanted to hunt down those who had the same blood as him because I believed they were inferior. That I still have to shake myself free of some of those thoughts. I will have to explain to him that I tried to kill his father, the man I love more than I thought possible. 

“Harry is powerful, but he is also human and so very fragile. I will protect my family from Death Eaters to the end of the earth, Minister. I’d prefer to do it with your knowledge, but you saying no to my request will do very little to limit me.”

Shacklebolt sat back. “I can’t get a read on you,” he said slowly. “Draco Malfoy was a spoilt, little coward who could be vicious. Draco Malfoy the husband was cold and aloof, the single father was forgiving and philosophical. As Harry’s partner you’ve been…surprisingly sane. And now this?”

“Minister, I am a Malfoy. We are what we need to be at the time,” Draco stood. “I am not a good man. I did terrible things and I accept that I will never escape it, nor should I. But I protect my own and if that means staying quiet or making deals or taking a punishment to ensure my children grow free, then I have no issue with it.”

“You could give up the manor,” the minister said, “the name, everything and walk free. You know that Hermione Granger fought for that condition.”

“Some things,” Draco said with a sigh, “are too ingrained. Perhaps one day someone will tear that place down, but it won’t be me and I will not give permission while there is breath in my body. Family above all, Minister, that’s what I was raised to believe.”

Shacklebolt nodded. “Then it appears we have some extra negotiations to make.”

Xxx

“Were you hoping I’d take Granger’s offer?” Draco asked as he lay in bed with Harry, deliciously warm.

“You weren’t going to,” Harry said with a sigh. “I told her that.”

“But you hoped for it?”

Harry turned. “Why do you think that? I’ve…I don’t always hate being here,” he offered brightly and Draco snorted. 

“You were quiet,” he said. “Have been for a while.”

“Mm,” Harry said. “So the negotiations are all over with?”

“Yes.” Draco rolled over and looked down at Harry. “Tell me,” he said, nosing into Harry’s jaw, hands sweeping up his sides. And then he flinched when Harry took hold of one of his hands. 

“Harry…” he trailed off when Harry placed Draco’s hand firmly on his stomach. For a moment, he just stared, thumb slowly brushing over the soft skin there before he raised his eyes, an overwhelming hope crashing over him. “Is it…are you?”

“Preggo?” Harry asked without concern. “Seems like.”

Xxx

He was almost three months along and Draco found himself entering what might genuinely be the most frustrating six months of his life. Harry’s eating habits were appalling he realised; Harry might stuff food down the boys' throat at every opportunity but he pecked at his own like he was under rations. And he had no understanding of danger or caution and his job with spell craft had Draco nervously pacing every other day.

“But I’m not on the field,” Harry pointed out looking a little baffled. 

Sex was still a minefield and they were getting better still, but Draco wanted to worship the little growing bump and Harry was a little more wary about apparating and they had wonderful nights and others that were less wonderful. 

Their son was born, of all days on the anniversary of the battle of Hogwarts. And Draco was actually able to witness one of his boys coming into the world in the old fashioned way and the baby was perfectly healthy and had a shock of black hair that stuck up all over his head.

Draco was entranced. Felix was supremely unimpressed and climbed up to Harry to have a cuddle with him instead so Draco found himself sitting with Scorpius in his lap who held the baby in his arms.

Later, Draco smiled as on his bed was Harry feeding the baby with a bottle, Felix edging closer and Scorpius snuggled up close and watching his new baby brother as if he too was the parent.

“What’s his name?” Scorpius asked quietly and looking wary which was understandable given the epic fights he and Harry had entertained over the issue in the past few months.

“John,” Harry muttered mulishly.

“We are not calling him that,” Draco said for the hundredth time. “You don’t even want to call him that. You’re being stubborn.”

Harry huffed and then grinned when the baby squirmed. “I know, he’s a git sometimes, isn’t he?” Harry whispered to the baby. “And a hypocrite.”

“Besides,” Draco said, lying onto the pillow and watching his family. “I already registered him.”

Scorpius winced. Thankfully, Harry had a newborn infant in his arms and was limited. “As?”

“Valentine Potter.”

Harry stared at him for the longest time. “Not Malfoy?”

“It’s easier,” Draco said, stroking Scorpius’ hair, “besides, one of them will likely take on the Black surname so…” 

Harry nodded slowly. And then sighed and looked back at their son. “Valentine,” he said quietly and then looked around at their little family, almost perplexed with what he was seeing. “You do understand that I will never call him by his full name?”

“You understand why I gave him that name?”

Harry smiled. “Yeah,” he said with a long sigh. “Fine. Love you too. You great prat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scorpius and Felix's chapter to come soon at some point this month :)


	3. Scorpius

“You’re being slow,” Felix shouted over his shoulder. “Keep up.”

Scorpius bent closer to the handle and smiled at the sight of his brother ahead, but didn’t push the broom the way he could. Instead, he trailed his hand down to the long grass, feeling the wet blades fly through his fingers in cool, sleek brushes. The wind rushed through his hair and ahead, the sun was slowly setting casting the ground of the manor into shade and light.

They zoomed across the gardens and towards the stone steps that led to the back of the manor, the huge window on the second floor lit up and Scorpius could imagine that his father was watching them, the occasional glance out the window or roll of the eyes at Felix trying to get their brooms to act like an adult’s would. 

Felix zoomed up the steps and laughed as he leapt off the broom and cheered. “Beat you,” he yelled, turning to Scorpius as he pulled the broom to a stop, and kept astride it. “In your face, loser.”

“Felix,” their grandmother chided gently, appearing in the grand glass doors that led to the green lounge. “Go and wash your hands for dinner.”

Felix grinned and ran inside, calling for Harry and then making a loud annoyed sound that probably meant Valen had found him instead.

Scorpius climbed off his broom and stepped closer to his grandmother. She smiled at him and fixed his cloak gently before turning them to the doors. “A package arrived for you,” she said as they walked through the lounge and into the grand hall and towards the marbled staircase. 

“Felix!” Harry’s voice rang out. “I swear to god, stop trying to stand on that bloody broomstick.” 

His grandmother’s lips tightened, but she said nothing as she led Felix up to his room.

On the bed were his new Hogwarts’ robes and Scorpius felt a flutter of nerves. Slowly, he reached out and plucked at the fabric and then turned to his grandmother who was looking at him expectantly.

Within minutes, he had the robes on and was staring at himself in the mirror, not sure what he was expecting to see. They’d given him the Slytherin tie and badge because chances of him going elsewhere were slim. 

Dad came in as Scorpius stared at himself in the mirror thinking that he was too skinny and too pale and he looked like he was playing dress-up. He looked up as his father appeared behind him, reaching down to adjust Scorpius’ tie and pressed back a little, wanting the comfort.

“Nervous?” Dad asked.

Scorpius nodded. 

“You’re a Malfoy,” Dad said slowly, as he narrowed his gaze at the tie in the mirror. “It’s a blessing and a curse,” he said gently. 

Yeah. 

“I swear,” Harry said, walking in, “I might just give those two away. You I’d keep,” he said to Scorpius, his work gloves still on his hands. “You’re…” he trailed off and his finger pointed over Scorpius’s uniform, “you’re confident,” he said to Dad.

Dad’s arm slid around Scorpius. 

“We met during our fitting,” Harry said coming close, studying Scorpius carefully. “You remember?”

“The messy urchin that barely said a word? I miss the quiet,” Dad said, his gaze now fixed on Harry.

“Don’t gel your hair,” was all that Harry said and then grinned, ruffled Scorpius’s hair and walked out.

Xxx

That night at dinner, Felix was a pain in the…you know.

“Why can’t I go?” he was demanding, wielding his knife like it was a weapon.

“I refuse to have this conversation again,” Dad said, grey eyes narrowing. 

“Mm,” Valen said, picking up his carrot with his fingers, “can I go if I eat avocado?” 

“No.”

“Celery?” Valen asked after humming, sucking on the carrot. “I might eat celery if I was allowed to go.”

Dad looked amused. “Might you?”

Valen nodded seriously, big grey eyes watching Dad curiously. “Just once though,” he said warily.

Dad’s lips twitched and he shook his head. 

“But Scorpius and I are the same age,” Felix added and the humour fled from Dad’s face. He sat back and folded his arms when Dad simply glared at him.

“Eat,” Dad said after a moment. 

“I’ll eat when I can go to Hogwarts,” Felix snapped.

“I have zero problem pouring a potion down your throat,” Dad snapped. “Eat your dinner, Felix.”

But Felix continued to glare, green eyes narrowed and absolutely unbowed.

“Go to your room,” Dad said after a moment. “Now.”

Felix continued to sit where he was and Scorpius felt something in his stomach swoop because sometimes his brother had no idea what their Dad was thinking during these moments. Half remembered nights with another man at their table, just as blond as he and Dad were and vicious with his words and orders.

But Dad drew in a breath, muttered something at Felix and then stood, picking up his plate. “Perhaps we should eat in the blue room,” he said and Valen shrieked in joy and was out the room before he’d even finished speaking. Dad stared at where he’d gone and then smiled gently and picked up Valen’s plate of food.

Felix scowled and then moved to get up and his eyes widened when he realised he’d been stuck to the seat.

Scorpius caught his gaze. “You’re an idiot,” he mouthed behind Dad’s back.

Xxx

Harry came over about an hour later and Dad and he stared at each other for about two minutes without speaking before Harry sighed and leaned against the doorframe. 

“I’ll take him back with me,” Harry said eventually. “Tomorrow should be about Scorpius rather than him.”

“You’re rewarding him with your attention,” Dad said slowly, placing a bookmark on the page he’d been reading. 

Something about that made Harry glare at him and walk off.

Felix was gone when Scorpius looked.

Xxx

Valen snuck into Scorpius’ room that night and clambered into his bed, sitting up and staring down at Scorpius. “Do you have to go?” he asked quietly.

Sitting up, Scorpius wrapped the duvet around his little brother. “Yes,” he said, pulling him close. 

“How old will you be when I get to Hogwarts?” Valen asked, wrapping his hands around his toes and rubbing his chin on his knees.

Scorpius frowned. “Uh…seventh year?” he said. “I’ll be seventeen.” Wow, that sounded old. 

Valen sniffed and then wriggled and Scorpius waited patiently as Valen produced a wrinkled little card. The drawing was terrible; of them all, only Felix had inherited Dad’s ability to draw. But it was sweet and Valen had drawn the three of them on broomsticks and it had scruffy ‘I’ll miss you’ and ‘best biggest brother’ on it.

“I had to write biggest,” Valen whispered, “otherwise Felix would get upset.”

Xxx

They went to the platform the three of them the next day and Scorpius tried to ignore his disappointment that Harry wasn’t there, but then Harry wasn’t his Dad so maybe he shouldn’t be surprised. Dad held Valen in his arms and Valen seemed content to stay there, head rested on Dad’s shoulder as he watched the world go by.

And then Harry was there, laughing with Teddy who was turning bright red at something his god-father had said. 

“Hey,” Teddy said, turning away from Harry and clasping Scorpius of the shoulder. “You all right, wisp?”

“Don’t call me that,” Scorpius groaned and Teddy snorted and winked before he glanced over at Victorie and swallowed.

“Where’s Felix?” Scorpius heard Dad murmur to Harry.

“With Hermione. Sulking,” Harry said with a sigh. “We had a chat last night.”

Dad didn’t look convinced, but said little, hand resting on Valen’s back and rocking him gently. Then Harry came over and wrapped Scorpius in his cloak for a hug making Scorpius want to both laugh and die of embarrassment.

“Hey,” Harry said, tipping up his chin and looking serious. “I know I’m not…you’re still mine, okay? As far as I’m concerned I have two brats and one angel.” He winked at Scorpius and then pressed a long kiss to his hair. “Love you, kid.”

“Love you too,” Scorpius whispered in reply, breathing in the smell of homemade pasta sauce and burned leather and fresh air that was Harry. “Look after Dad?”

Harry smiled and then pulled away, bringing back the world and took Valen from Dad. Valen reached down for a moment and gave him an awkward hug. “Miss you,” he muttered miserably.

Then Dad placed a hand on his shoulder and walked him down the platform, and he knew his Dad well enough to know that the man was nervous. Then they stood, facing each other and Dad looked…hesitant for once.

“Never be ashamed of who you are,” he said eventually. “You are the Malfoy heir.”

Scorpius nodded.

“You’ll hear…things,” Dad said, fiddling with Scorpius’ robes again. “My past is…you may end up being ashamed of me,” he said quietly. “But I ask that you…ask,” he said eventually. “I will always try to be honest, Scorpius. Please believe that, but it is hard to go through this.” He looked away and his grey gaze fell on Harry who was watching Teddy hold Valen. Then he regained his focus. “Now…words of wisdom,” he said with a frown and seemed to be giving it a lot of thought, “watch carefully, think about what you say and…” he seemed lost in a memory for a moment, “be kind,” he said, shifting a little.

Scorpius nodded and gave him a brief hug, knowing that public displays of affection didn’t come easy to his father and so was surprised when Dad caught him and held on a little tighter and longer than Scorpius had thought he would.

Then he was on the train and gone.

Xxx

It came as no surprise to any that he was sorted into Slytherin. He held his tongue when people insulted him, was relieved that Teddy actively sought him out and helped him with homework. He had as many people ask him quietly and with awe about his Dad as he did have people loudly ask about Harry.

He wrote to his father weekly and to Harry almost as often. Felix sent a flood of owls after the first week, apparently unable to cope with his silence a moment more and Valen sent question after question.

At Christmas, he went home and helped Harry with the roast dinner and was fascinated by Harry’s spell craft in the basement of Grimmauld place. Felix seemed to have calmed down a little, but was a lot more competitive with Valen which annoyed Dad and Harry would frown quietly.

Xxx

He was good at potions; it reminded him of cooking with Harry (who laughed when Scorpius said that and then confessed that he’d been shite at potions). Scorpius found himself floating when it came to friends; he had many people that he liked, but no-one that he felt a close bond with.

It didn’t bother him too much. He’d always had a lot of people and a lot of different groups. And he had his family and his brothers.

Xxx

The battle of Hogwarts anniversary was marked by an assembly and a re-telling on the story and Scorpius felt a thrill of pride at the fact his grandmother had helped Harry (no-one had ever mentioned that before) but the rest of the tale…Harry had been killed by a man who his father had followed?

“It’s complicated,” his father admitted quietly when Scorpius asked him, having apparated to Hogwarts to talk to him about it. “My family…we felt our heritage was threatened and the Dark Lord offered a way to protect it. But his method was to eradicate those who were muggleborn and place purebloods in control, the way it used to be.” He looked down at the ground. “And…Harry…when he was a baby, there was a prophecy that he would be the one to kill the Dark Lord. We were on opposite sides of a war.”

“But you went to school together?”

“We hated each other,” Dad said and oddly, he was smiling. “We both loved Quidditch, we both had tempers, both were far too proud of our houses. I don’t think we’d have been friends, even without the war. But it,” the smile faded, “it became something else.”

“And grandfather,” Scorpius said, hesitant because Dad never liked to talk about him, “he was…I remember he used to hurt you.”

Dad flinched. “Yes,” he admitted. “And he hurt Harry and your aunt and uncle. He was…unpleasant during the war.” He looked down at his hands.

“But, we helped,” Scorpius pressed and Dad looked up surprised. “Grandmother helped Harry?”

Dad snorted. “Harry embellishes things,” he muttered. “Honestly? I…we didn’t. We were cowards. My father wanted to protect his bloodline and my mother wanted to protect me and I was…” he looked away, “scared. Always so very scared.”

Xxx

Harry was around the school in the last few weeks and Scorpius was genuinely surprised to discover that he did magical theory lessons with every class from fifth year onwards for a few weeks. Teddy always tried to make a new spell and Harry always, apparently, flipped one back at him with ease.

Scorpius couldn’t wait until he was older. 

Harry was as demonstrative as ever with him, ruffling his hair as he went by or giving him some form of food as they bumped into each other. Once, he came and sat at Scorpius’ table for a five minutes and some sixth year Slytherins overcame whatever they were feeling to ask Harry about spell construction which Harry happily answered.

“Is it true?” one asked Scorpius one evening, “that Harry Potter can shoot Avada Kedavra back at someone?”

Xxx

“Ah,” Dad said. “That.”

They were sat on the steps at the manor, early in the morning, a ritual that they had started when Scorpius was eight and the Potter genes made the rest of their family shy away from early morning activities.

“What?”

Dad sipped at his coffee and hummed. “Harry…Harry killed Lucius,” he said slowly. “My father sent a house-elf with the curse, a remarkable feat of magic considering the spells on him. Harry was hit and reappeared four days later, flinging it back at him.”

What?

Stunned, Scorpius stared out over the grounds, not sure how to feel about any of it. “But…why? Why did Grandfather try to attack Harry?”

“Because…because Harry’s mother was a muggleborn and the child follows the mother,” Dad said quietly. “So…Felix was…my father saw it as a corruption of his bloodline.”

“He wanted to kill Harry?”

“He wanted to kill Felix,” Dad corrected. “Harry simply had him under constant protection spells.” His mouth tightened. 

“But…Felix was his grandson?” 

Dad took a long sip of his coffee. “You were his grandson,” he said eventually. “Anything else was…in his eyes, an issue to be remedied.”

“And you just…we lived with him.”

Dad said nothing. Then: “He was the Lord of the manor and my father. We were trapped here. I had to be…somewhat obedient. I trusted Harry to protect Felix and I protected you.”

“What? I thought you said-”

Dad shook himself. “When you’re older, Scorpius. I’ll explain when you are older.”

Xxx

It explained something though, why Harry and Dad had such different attitudes towards them all. Valen would have been born after Lucius had died and Felix…they must have both been so aware that he could be attacked.

Xxx

Felix was clearly relieved to be joining him at Hogwarts. He went with Rose Weasley to get his robes and came home in them almost refusing to take them off.

“I’ll eat celery three times,” Valen said after looking thoughtful for about an hour, “take it or leave it,” he said seriously to their Dad.

Dad gathered Valen onto his lap, “Not a chance,” he said, watching Scorpius and Felix with a sad look in his eyes. “Not a chance.”

Xxx

Felix was sorted into Gryffindor after a long deliberation with the hat and most of the table cheered, though Scorpius could see a few that refused to do so.

His brother remained oblivious.

Xxx

“Please,” Felix whined at him. 

“No.”

Felix scowled as he balanced on the wall outside the castle. “Come on. I want to see what it looks like.”

“Then you should have let the hat sort you into Slytherin,” Scorpius said checking the charm and then trying again with a hat that was on the floor.

It bobbed half-heartedly and then flopped back on the floor.

Xxx

Felix was loved by his Gryffindor classmates and had the bonus of using Scorpius’ connection and soon seemed to be the golden boy of the school. He even did what Harry had done and ended up on the Gryffindor Quidditch team as a seeker.

Scorpius sensed that there had been some kind of argument over it between Harry and Dad, but Harry had probably won out because Felix was accepted onto the team and played come rain or shine.

At Christmas, he was foul to Dad who Scorpius knew was a lot more upset than he let on. 

Xxx

It was pure chance that Scorpius found out. He was on his way back from a rare detention with Professor Longbottom and saw that the Quidditch team was finished so snuck down, hoping to catch up with Felix and see if he would maybe not mention that Scorpius had not done the prep work for class in his letter.

“If you were pure Potter, you could have made that catch,” a vicious voice whispered and Scorpius froze, stepping into the shadows.

“I…I can do it better,” Felix replied, sounding miserable.

There was a derisive snort. “Doubt it.” And then the rest was whispers and Scorpius couldn’t pick up on it no matter how hard he tried.

Xxx

“Felix,” he said quietly, catching his brother at a spare moment. “Are you okay?”

“Course I am,” Felix replied with his usual grin.

Xxx

But Scorpius watched. Watched how Felix’s grin would falter, just for a second around some fifth year Gryffindors. How he would out and out avoid some seventh year Ravenclaws. How he would hunch his shoulders walking past some girls in third year from Scorpius’ house.

The Gryffindors were cruel. Muttered rumours about Harry Potter being trapped by Scorpius’ father and confused tales of an abductions and rape. The Slytherins would call him half-breed and that he had sullied the Malfoy name.

But Felix avoided the Ravenclaws most of all and Scorpius couldn’t figure out why.

Xxx

In April it was Scorpius’ birthday and he got a new broom and spent most of the holidays playing with Felix like they had back when they’d been really small.

Felix wouldn’t admit there was a problem and he continued to be cruel to Dad.

“You know they love each other,” Scorpius whispered to his brother one evening as the lay out enjoying the spring sun. 

Felix nodded. “I know,” but his mouth tightened and there was something that he wanted to say, but wasn’t ready to.

Xxx

Scorpius dreaded the anniversary of the battle this year. Usually it was a source of fun at home, but Valen’s birthday seemed suddenly like a cruel joke.

Felix vanished all together on that day and re-appeared the next, tight-lipped and looking exhausted.

Something was very wrong.

Xxx

Dad wasn’t the person to tell; he was weirdly sensitive when it came to Felix and Harry was…tricky. Always had been. 

So Scorpius went to Professor Longbottom.

“I think…” he touched a leaf absently, not wanting to look at the man, “I think Felix is being bullied.”

“By who?”

“Everyone.”

Xxx

Dad and Harry turned up that evening, Dad looking haunted and Harry furious because they’d examined Felix and found bruises and that he hadn’t been eating and Scorpius hated himself for waiting so long in some stupid hope that Felix would tell him everything.

Felix refused to speak to anyone. He sat, white lipped and wouldn’t even respond to Harry who looked more and more shaken.

Dad paced and then demanded names and then started arguing with the headmistress when she refused to let him speak to the children and he told her he would not stand for his son to be treated like this when Felix finally snapped.

“I’m not though, am I?” Felix shouted, tears finally spilling over. “Not in your eyes. Valen and I are half breeds, we aren’t worthy of your fucking stupid name.”

Dad went white and Harry looked relieved and gathered Felix to him, shushing him.

“He hurt you,” Felix sobbed, “he doesn’t want me and he hates me and everyone knows it and he wanted to kill us-”

Dad looked like he might just collapse and Scorpius darted forward to help him stand upright. 

“Would you mind?” Harry asked McGonnagal quietly who was watching Felix with sympathy. “Please?”

She nodded and excused herself, oddly touching Dad on the arm. “You are so much more than what you once were,” she said gently to Dad, “You shouldn’t be embarrassed to show him that.”

As soon as she was out of the room, Dad was on his knees in front of Felix, looking like he was begging him. “You foolish child,” he whispered, reaching out for Felix who flinched away from him. Dad’s hand grasped air and he hung his head down.

When he looked up, he was crying. He looked to Harry as if asking for permission who nodded, beckoning Scorpius over with his free hand.

“My father,” Dad said slowly, “was… a pureblood supremacist. And yes, I agreed with him when I was your age. And then I saw a muggleborn boy stand up to the Dark Lord with more courage and conviction than anyone I’d ever seen. I watched him sacrifice himself for us all and still fight. And I realised I was a coward. And that I owed him everything,” he said, eyes lingering on Harry’s face.

“We didn’t love each other,” Harry confessed to Felix’s hair. “We…had a drunken night. You weren’t conceived from love,” he said and looked pained by the idea. “But both of us loved you the moment we found out about you. Well…I took about an hour because I was still trying to convince myself that you were a bug or wind.” Felix hiccupped out a weak laugh.

“And…” Dad sucked in a breath, “your brother was so sick,” he said and looked over at Scorpius, eyes pained. “I was scared. My father wouldn’t accept such weakness and I’d…you were Harry’s and that was offence enough. “I loved you and I was terrified because…because the only things I could offer you were pain and a blackened name that you would never fully be able to claim.”

Scorpius shifted and Dad’s eyes drifted over to him, oddly nervous.

“We…kept it hidden at first,” Draco admitted. “because…if I claimed you, then my father might be able to reach you and I…”

“Lucius Malfoy used to beat your father,” Harry said, his voice strange. “And your father took it because otherwise Scorpius would suffer in his stead.”

What?

“Dad…” Scorpius whispered, horrified. 

“That,” Dad whispered to Felix, “is my legacy. Pain and shame and torment. A world in which you are scorned for being my son and despised for being Harry’s. And I wanted..” he reached for Felix’s cheek who finally didn’t flinch, “I used to watch you. My golden boy. So loved and wanted by everyone. So unafraid of the world and I feared…I feared I would cause you the greatest pain. And now I have-”

Felix stared at him, unsure and then over at Scorpius. “You love Scorpius more than me.”

Dad seemed lost for words and then cupped Felix’s face fully. “You are your father’s son. And I love your father more than I’ve ever loved anyone. You frustrated me and annoy me like nothing else because of it. And you are absolutely my Achilles heel because of it. You are my boys. I love each of you differently. But not more or less, Felix, never that.”

Felix’s bottom jaw trembled. “You…I’ve been so mean. You have to hate me. You were meant to hate me. It would…I just…I wanted you to go away before you decided to-”

Dad pulled Felix into his lap and rocked him as if he were still four and said something quietly to him while Harry turned to Scorpius.

“Let’s… take a walk,” he suggested.

Xxx

“Are you mad?” Scorpius asked. “That I didn’t tell you earlier?”

Harry sent him a strange look. “Kid, I once went an entire year without telling someone that I suspected that one of the teachers was trying to kill me…” he seemed to debate it for a moment, “Once? Twice?” he asked himself and then shook his head, apparently dismissing what he had been about to say. “That would be deeply hypocritical.”

“Were you right?”

“Wrong teacher, but yeah,” Harry said, stopping on the bridge and staring out across the gorge. “Did you know Neville blew this up?”

What?

“Yeah,” Harry said with a grin. “Think most of the people I went to school with all destroyed some part of this place,” he said and the grin was replaced with something haunted. “I hate this place,” he confessed. “Voldemort forced us to apparate around it. And I killed him. And saw people die.”

Scorpius remained silent, not all that sure where this was going.

“I’m difficult,” Harry said after a moment. “Your father will never admit that, but…in hindsight I’m not sure I was the right person for him. He was… hurt. A lot. I’m not sure he’s ever dealt with that and I’m not really…” he tapped at his head. “But he fought so hard for you. For you to live, for you to be protected and happy. What he said up there…”Harry hesitated, “He has a special bond with you like I do with Felix. For a time in our lives you were each…our only hope and joy. Our sole world.”

“But he was hurt because of me.”

“For you,” Harry corrected. “it’s what father’s do. We protect. It’s what parents do.” He smiled. “So I’m not gonna stand here and give you some bullshit. Felix is…there’s some connection there and Valen was like some sort of reward I think. But you,” he said, clasping Scorpius on the shoulder, “you are frankly amazing to me. I love you out of choice and I adored you from the first day you tried to make a secret cookie for me. You are…” Harry seemed to struggle for words, “I think if I’m honest, you’re the one I’m proudest of and I know I have no right to be but-”

Scorpius threw his arms around the man, overwhelmed. “Love you too.”

Harry made an odd sound and made some very weird complaint about Malfoys.

Xxx

Felix was off school for a few weeks and seemed to be getting on better with Dad. Valen’s latest letter had the three of them drawn beautifully and Scorpius could sense his brother’s work.

But he didn’t forget.

In his third year, he was able to enter duelling club and he took down the Slytherins that had been so cruel to his brother. Took down anyone who was. By fourth year, he quietly ruled the house.

And Felix settled. No longer desperate for validation and praise, he was quieter though still impetuous. But he came and sat at the Slytherin table and joined Scorpius at Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw and welcomed him at Gryffindor. And Rose, who’d gone into Ravenclaw helped a little and then Hugh came along and was in Gryffindor too.

By the time Valen came along, no-one even thought to mess with the Malfoy boys. And no-one made halfblood or halfbreed comments or whispered about their parents.

Scorpius had seen to it on his end and he wasn’t stupid. His father and Harry had definitely had words with the parents. The Slytherins had almost expected his quiet leadership and the rest of the school looked terrified at the very hint of being mean to Scorpius or Felix, let alone their baby brother.

It was said, they whispered, that Harry Potter was the master of death and that he could come in to your homes, regardless of wards and his eyes would light up like the killing curse if injustice was done.

It was said that Draco Malfoy was the last wizard trained by you know who and he could kill a man without blinking.

It was all hogwash, but it made life easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay! I think I said that this would be up in February! I've been busy working on a little project https://www.amazon.co.uk/Porters-Lodge-Sins-Father-Book-ebook/dp/B07FK5QXJV/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1531561262&sr=8-1&keywords=porter%27s+lodge
> 
> or pop by https://ltbrady.tumblr.com/
> 
> Check it out if you fancy! Otherwise, hope you enjoyed the update and fingers crossed that the last chapter won't take another five months!

**Author's Note:**

> Announcing Sunday Sweetness!   
> On Sundays for the next few weeks, you'll be able to get my latest novel Porter's Lodge on Amazon.com for free! I'm trying to spread the word about this new series so you'll be able to read and, if you like it, review for absolutely free!


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